


All Good Things

by AnonAnton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anonymity, Anxious Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Bad Sex, Bisexual Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, Drugs, Drunk Dean, Drunk Texting, Homophobic Language, Hungover Castiel, Impala Sex, Knives, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Lisa Being an Asshole, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Museum Worker Castiel, Past Castiel/Meg Masters, Pining Castiel, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, Security Guard Castiel, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Snarky Castiel, Swords, Texting, Top Castiel, Weapons, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 53
Words: 29,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5224049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAnton/pseuds/AnonAnton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to The Beautiful Man, Castiel has been repeating the phrase 'all good things come to those who wait' to himself for the past year. When he decides to finally throw caution to the wind and ask The Beautiful Man out, he turns out to be a day too late. Little does he know that some mixed up phone numbers, a little spectator sport dining and an attempted robbery will turn his life upside-down, all the while still pining for those good things with The Beautiful Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He's pretty sure that who ever came up with the proverb 'All Good Things Come To Those Who Wait' was, to put it bluntly, an ass-hole.

He'd waited.

He was unsure, so he'd waited.

He hadn't wanted the rejection, so he'd waited.

He'd waited, observed, fantasized and hoped.

And, what had it got him? On the day that he had decided he was done waiting and was going to say something?

A great big steaming pile of sod all. That was what. The Beautiful Man walked in, hand in hand with a woman he'd never been in with before, all smiles and longing gazes.

The Beautiful Man, who he'd been longing after for over a year. The Beautiful Man who, it was now abundantly clear, was straight. The Beautiful Man who didn't even know that Castiel existed.


	2. Chapter 2

It had all begun when, a little short on money, Castiel had applied for a weekend job. Just Friday and Saturday nights, so as not to interfere with his day job as an archivist at the museum, or his writing. Putting to use some long unused courses he'd attended while still at school, he got a job working security in a large financial building. 

He patrolled and monitored CCTV screens. The vaults in the cellar had their own staff, so he just ran the front desk from the hours of 8pm-2am Friday and Saturday, when he was relieved by another member of staff.

The Beautiful Man arrived at 8:30pm like usual, and flashed his pass at the gate, and motioned in Castiel's general direction, that his guest was going with him. Castiel buzzed her through. They entered the elevator, and took it up to the 7th floor, just as usual, where they got out and made it to office 704. On the CCTV screen they could be seen walking in without knocking. Usually The Beautiful Man would leave about three minutes later with another man, who, from caught pieces of conversation on their leaving through the lobby together, he'd gathered was his brother. This time though, he and his lady friend spent a good ten minutes in there before leaving with the brother.

The Beautiful Man was usually dressed casually, light jackets over t-shirts and shirts, with old torn jeans and heavy black boots. Today he was wearing a black suit with a black skinny tie. He'd shaved.

The woman was tall, slim, dark haired, and wearing a black dress and heels that clicked along the polished floor.

The brother nodded at him when he left as usual, The Beautiful Man completely ignoring him in favour of his date.

If only he'd had the balls to make conversation last week. Maybe, then, he'd have one of those good things that the proverb talks of. Instead he has a miserable shift, a boring day of fact checking tomorrow and another week of hard work at the museum ahead of him. The only plus point he can see is that if The Beautiful Man is straight, then he'd have been shot down, and would still be lonely and alone anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

It had gone like this; 

Graham, the security guard, who's shift was finishing, was complaining that his car had broken down on the way here, and he couldn't get hold of his normal garage.

Castiel had googled local garages on the PC on the front desk.

Castiel had written the number of the first, already visited, link down on the back of a business card for Edlund & Adler, that were kept on the desk.

Castiel was about to hand the card over to Graham when his usual garage finally answered their emergency out of hours phone; i.e. the garage owner's personal mobile.

At that moment the front desk phone rang, causing Castiel to jump. 

Not usually needing to answer phones in his job, he floundered a little before picking up and replying “Edlund & Adler”

“Cassie!” His brother thrilled down the phone at the other end of the line.

“So, we're going to dinner in two weeks time, Saturday at 9pm at that new fish place near me. You need to book time off and you need to write down my new phone number as I may or may not have lost my old phone in someone's bed last week.”

Castiel grabs another business card, dropping the first, and notes down Gabe's new phone number.

Gabe hung up before he could even double check that the number was correct, or argue that he wasn't sure he could get cover to take the night off.

Sighing deeply, and waving goodbye to Graham, Castiel grabbed the business card that he'd written Gabe's number on and pocketed it in his jacket.

At 1am after returning from his latest patrol, he collapsed in to the chair. It had been a horrible night. The lights had been flickering, the CCTV monitors had been playing up, one of the vault staff had had to go home, and he hadn't had time for any coffee.

He noticed Gabe's new number written on a business card on the desk. Putting it in his trouser pocket, he got up again to do his last patrol of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

At 8am the next morning Castiel pours a large mug of jitter inducingly strong coffee. Sipping at the scorching liquid, he taps out an email to his boss asking for cover for two weeks today.

Knowing he won't receive a reply until Monday afternoon at the earliest, he switches to the messages section of his phone. Then, fishing through the detritus he'd exhumed from his trouser pockets last night before slinging them in the washing machine, he picks up the card he'd written Gabe's number on.

>> 08:16   
I'll let you know about dinner on Monday. C

Realising the time, he didn't expect a reply from Gabe for a few hours. Gabriel and anything before 11am didn't really mix. Castiel pours another steaming mug of coffee and retrieves his laptop to do a little writing and editing, he has a deadline after all.

His phone releases it's little irritating tinkle signalling a new message. Blinking his eyes away from the screen he reaches for both his coffee and the phone. The screen of his phone announces three hours have passed. His coffee is stone cold. Pouting to himself, he wonders back in to the kitchen while swiping his phone open;

<< 11:42   
Awesome. Whre r u takin me?

Taking a sip from his third freshly brewed cup of the day, he frowns;

>> 11:46   
I thought we were going to that new fish place?

<< 11:53   
Gross. Whers the burgers?

<< 11:54   
I dnt think ur talkin 2 who u think ur talkin 2 btw.

>> 12:02   
This isn't Gabe?

<< 12:02   
Nope

>> 12.13   
Oh. I am so sorry. My apologies.

<< 12:15   
Sure thing

Well, that was a little embarrassing.

He went and checked the card with Gabe's number on it. He'd entered it correctly, maybe Gabe had read it out wrong, or he'd written it down wrong. Shrugging, as there was nothing he could do about it for now, he continued typing away at his fascinating subject.

At 7.48pm Castiel walked in to the changing room of the security office of Edlund & Adler.

Pulling on his uniform jacket and automatically putting his hands in his pockets to pull the uncomfortable jacket in to shape, he found a slip of card in the pocket.

Crap.

>> 19:58   
Gabe? I will let you if I can get time off on Monday for dinner in a fortnight.

<< 20:03   
Okie Dokie Cassie m'boy!

At 8:30pm The Beautiful Man and his girlfriend came to collect the lawyer from his office as usual. The tall man nodded at him, and the other two ignored him again. Castiel felt his heart drop just a little further.


	5. Chapter 5

>> 15:47  
Shall I meet you at your place?

<< 15:52  
R u hittin on me?

>> 15:53  
Sorry. Wrong number again.

<< 15:55  
;-)

–

>> 15:59  
Shall I meet you at your place tonight?

<< 16:13  
Sure thing little brother. Come over about 8 well have drinkies first!

>> 16:16  


Fine.

–

Gabriel and Castiel had had a few cocktails in a swanky bar around the corner from the restaurant. They were now situated in a booth, both feeling mellow. The drinks hadn't had too much of an effect as yet, high alcohol tolerance ran in the family.

They'd just ordered their starters, dipping in to bread and oil while they waited, and sipping on wine.

“So little brother. What's new?”  
“Nothing much Gabriel. I'm still writing, still working at the museum and still doing night security.”  
“Well, that's why I've dragged you out tonight! Sophisticated food and all!”  
“I appreciate it. It's better than the last time you made me go out with you.”  
“What? Didn't you like the dancing girls?”  
“Can we please not talk about the dancing girls?” Castiel sighs.  
“Suit yoursel---”

At that moment Gabe was cut off by a tall figure stopping by their table with his back to them. The tail end of the man's conversation had cut across Gabriel's chatter.

“---just going to leave you to it tonight man, clearly you guys need some privacy”  
“What? No. She's being ridiculous. This is _our_ Saturday night.”  
“No, man. I'm not getting involved. It's not like we don't have next week to catch up y'know?”  
“Ugh. Fine. If you're sure?”  
“Yeah, go sort things out with her yeah?”  
“Sure.” The obscured man grumbled.

The tall man walks back out the way they'd come, and the grumbling man takes his seat in a booth across and up the isle a little from Castiel.

He has a perfect view of The Beautiful Man.

Before Castiel could even begin to blush, before Gabe could even notice his discomfort, a woman's voice cut clearly through the room.

“So who is it then?! They give you restaurant recommendations! They offer to come over to your house! Who the fuck is it? Even your brother knows some thing's going on!”  
“No, Lisa, you've got it all wrong. That was just a--”  
“Ugh. No! I've had it! First the flowers? Then booking to come here rather than the Italian you usually drag me and Sam to? And now you're texting and meeting someone behind my back. Fucking figures. Screw you Dean!”  
“Lisa---”  
“No. Screw you.”  


At that the woman, who Castiel can see is the dark haired lady he'd brought to pick up his brother with the past few weeks, stormed off and out of the elegant building. The Beautiful Man, Dean apparently, just sits there staring at the menu she'd thrown back on to the table in front of him.

It doesn't take long for him to get up and leave.


	6. Chapter 6

<< 22:32  
I dnt think much of ur restarent recomends

<< 23:05  
My gf dumped me 2nite cos she thought I ws bangin u

<< 00:16  
nw m drunk n singke n its ur fqult. U owe me s beer

At 10:35pm, when Castiel looked at his phone, he was still drinking and eating with Gabe. He was concerned about The Beautiful Man, distracted. He read the text noting the unknown number and the previous text conversation.

When did he recommend to the person he'd accidentally texted two weeks ago, to go to this restaurant? He'd mentioned 'the new fish place.' Even he hadn't known where and what this place was when he'd mentioned it, thinking he was texting Gabe. Why wouldn't this person think much of it? Had they visited?

At 11pm he was being told to go home because he was useless to Gabe like this. He was all fidgety and irritable. He couldn't concentrate. Once in the taxi he heard his phone go off again. 

It could be a coincidence. It could. But, put together with the first text? The only person that night to have been dumped, to his knowledge, was The Beautiful Man. Dean had been dumped by his girlfriend. Castiel was texting The Beautiful Man. He was texting The Beautiful Man?! The Beautiful Man who's girlfriend thought he was having sex with Castiel.

Castiel didn't know what to do with this knowledge.

When he got in to his apartment, he opened the bottle of whiskey he kept for special occasions. Pouring a rather generous measure, which he downed in one go he re-read the previous text. Dean, it must be Dean, had been dumped. Because his, now ex-girlfriend, had thought he was cheating on her. Cheating on her with the person in the texts clearly, as Dean didn't actually know him from Adam.

Castiel slumped on his squishy white sofa with a freshly topped up whiskey. But, he was so beautiful. Why was this so complicated. Why couldn't he have just asked him out months ago?

Next thing he knew he'd received another text, the tone jangling away, the phone still clutched in his hand.

It was fair to say that at this point, two tumblers full of whiskey, a bottle of wine and numerous cocktails in, Castiel was a little drunk.

>> 00:24  
Are you Dean? I'm sorry you didn't like the fish place. And I'm sorry your girlfriend dumped you because she thought you were having sex with me. I will buy you a beer as recompense if you like.

<< 00:45  
Hoe u no my name? Do u no me

>> 01:06  
I'm sorry. I was in fishy place too. Saw your gf leaving.

<< 03:18  
sdtslker imm slkeerping nw


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel woke upon Sunday morning feeling as if a large badger had curled up in his mouth and died there.

He was still clothed, lying on his sofa, empty whiskey glass resting in his hand, miraculously still upright. He stumbled in to the kitchen in search of rehydration. The oven clock stated 10:12. 

Ugh.  
Water.  
Coffee.

Remember the previous evening's series of events.  
Cringe.

Drink water.  
Drink coffee.

Drink more coffee.

Re-remember the previous evening's events.

Go hide in the shower for an hour.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel finally pulled himself together just after midday.

Slouching down in to the sofa with a cosy white knitted blanket, clean clothes and half a pizza, he pulled out his laptop, determined to get some work done today.

His phone buzzes under his thigh where he was sitting on it, where he'd left it last night, the annoying tone he'd never changed, muffled to obscurity by the cushions.

Before opening the screen he drops his head backwards and blankly stares at the ceiling, praying to a deity he didn't believe in for strength.

Five unread messages.

<< 11:08  
So. Sry 4 drunk texting u

<< 11:10  
N sry 4 calling u a stalker. Well, at least tryin 2 call u a stalker. I think.

<< 11:12  
Ur not a stalker tho r u?

<< 11:23  
Wen am I getting that beer u promised me?

<< 12:07  
Sry, jst kidding.

>> 12:08  
I'm not a stalker.

>> 12:09  
But its not the first time I've seen you

Crap now he does sound like a stalker!

>> 12:09  
I mean, I think I work with your brother sometimes, well, in the same building.

>> 12:10  
And, I didn't know it was you I was texting. That was an accident. I got your phone number off google for someone else.

And, now he sound like he was trying to set the guy up with someone!

>> 12:11  
They needed a garage's phone number and I got it mixed up with my brothers new one.

No more waiting, no more waiting, no more waiting, no more waiting.

>> 12:12  
And id lick

Fuck. It. All!

>> 12:12  
Sorry. I'd like to buy you a beer if I haven't just completely freaked you out.

Why were his hands sweating?

Oh wait, because he'd just asked The Beautiful Man out for a beer.

Yes. That would be it.

And, now, he's not replying.

Fuck.

He shoved the pizza in his mouth and opened his file.

With the slice of pizza still hanging from his mouth while he fact checked something, his phone buzzed again. He should really put it on silent to stop the heart attack every time the shitting little thing went off.

<< 13:19  
Woah there buddy! Freaked out? Yeh a little!

Well. There went that pipe dream then.

Fuck his life.

<< 13:21  
Nt the weirdest way iv been asked out tho.

Um…

<< 13:23  
N, iv def been more freaked out by sum1 ;) 

What?

>> 13:25  
Are you trying to tell me you would like to go out for a beer?

<< 13:26  
Agn: Woah there! I dnt even no who r u. I dnt even no if ur a guy or girl.

>> 13:28  
I take it that the answer matters?

<< 13:29  
I take it ur a guy then

>> 13:29  
Yes?

<< 13:30   
What ur nt sure?

>> 13:35  
I am entirely sure I am male.

<< 13:36  
OK. gd 2 no.

Er. What? He'd expected Dean to run screaming for the hills, metaphorically. Or maybe literally. How do you reply to that?

<< 13:36  
Sry man, gotta cut ths short. gonna meet a friend.

He felt a surge of regret and, guiltily, equal relief that his conversation with Dean was at an end.

>> 13:39  
OK. Was nice talking to you.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Saturday again. Dean was late. Was he avoiding him? No. He still didn't know who Castiel was. They hadn't text each other again. Castiel had been too scared, hadn't known what to say.

8:45pm. The Beautiful Man was fifteen minutes late and Castiel had to go on patrol. 

He was already at the end of the corridor that took him on his usual route when he heard the ding! of the elevator opening it's doors in the lobby. Simultaneously he heard the heavy door leading down to the vault room opening.

“Novak!”

That was Graham. Why would he need him at this point in the night? Shit.

Castiel ran back down the corridor, wondering what he would find there. Men in balaclavas? An array of guns facing him? A fire? A- a- a- a- Not a grinning man holding a slice of birthday cake with a very tall lawyer leaning on the front desk smiling and wishing Graham happy birthday.

Ok.

He offers birthday wishes to his colleague, eats the surprisingly nice lemon and poppy seed cake, and shakes the man's hand before he heads back to the vault and his partner for the night. After the quite thump of the door closing behind him reverberates about the large lobby, The Beautiful Man's brother sticks his own hand out to shake.

“Hi, Novak he said? Sorry, I see you here every week, but I've never said hello. I'm Sam. Sam Winchester.”   
“Castiel Novak, yes. It's nice to meet you.”   
“I, er, I really hope you don't mind me asking, but are you related to James Novak? It's not a common surname.”   
“Erm? No?...Kind of?” Damn. His voice had raised a whole register in surprise. He wished he was better at lying.   
“Er. Well, that was enlightening!” Sam laughs. Still smiling he continues “It's just that I've been reading my way through his books. My brother, Dean, got me the first one, I think, for my birthday. A History of Warfare in Ancient Japan. I couldn't put it down, so I got Napoleonic Warfare and Weaponry in the Trenches. The guy knows so much about tactics, the weapons themselves, notable characters, histories of particular battles….” At this point Sam drifted off in to a silent personal heaven.   
“Well, um, thank you Sam.”   
“What?”   
“Uh. I wrote those. James is my middle name, my pen name. I've never told anyone that I wrote them before though, actually you're the first person I've met to have even heard of them.”

At this point Dean comes running in, back in his usual attire; messy jeans and too many layers.

“Shit Sammy, I'm so sorry, I had to do this emergency exhaust pipe for some tiny old lady, and then--”   
“Yeah? Don't worry man, I've been chatting with a full blown author here.” Sam was grinning ear to ear. Castiel all but face palms. 

Seriously? The first time he has an opportunity to talk to the man he's been admiring from a far for a whole year, face to face, and he gets that introduction? The one he wanted to keep secret? The one he uses a false name for? Not that he's ashamed of his work, far from it. And not that he wants to remain anonymous to Dean…. Oh god, now he's blushing and can't even meet the man's eyes.

“Yeah? Security dude here? Awesome, but er, we gotta run or Ellen won't hold our tabl--”

Dean tails off as Castiel finally looks up at him, and they make eye contact for the first time.

All Castiel can think is that Dean hasn't even heard him speak yet, and he's already trying to escape from him. He wants to talk to Dean, about something, anything! Even his stupid war books, but no, the man needs to get to a dinner reservation. So, he bravely looks up at Dean, hoping that at least he can find out what colour The Beautiful Man's eyes are.

Green, as it turns out.

Apparently his pitiful expression and red face are enough to make the green eyed man's words dry up.

Oh, that can't be a good sign.


	10. Chapter 10

On Sunday morning, Castiel thinks he may have proof that Dean disagrees with the last thought he had watching Sam and his brother's backs retreat through the dominating lobby entry way the previous night.

<< 09:28  
Hey man, sry 2 bother u I guess. U said u wrk wit my bro? Any chance u no sum1 called casteel novack? He wrks security on Sat nites.

Well, at least if that wasn't a good sign, then at least it wasn't bad? Presumably Sam had told Dean about him in more detail than as “security dude.” He could tell Dean that that was him. Couldn't he? Could he?

Shit. 

This was a bacon, pancakes and two cups of coffee minimum sort of a situation.

In fact. Maybe it was a Monday morning sort of a situation.

Or maybe he should deal with it Tuesday?

Maybe Wednesday?

Screw it. He'll just talk to Dean on Saturday at work.

Or, maybe he can text Dean later, because he should probably go on patrol early tonight, make sure everything's OK in the building. Sam and Dean will just be a distraction from his work tonight. Yes. He'll reply in the morning.


	11. Chapter 11

`THE SUNDAY CHRONICLE`

`Three men have been arrested and one taken in for questioning following an alleged attempted robbery of Edlund & Adler in the city. A fight broke out between the three men and another man believed to be an off duty security guard for the firm. A knife is believed to have been involved.`

`The incident, in which three men suffered minor to moderate injuries, took place outside the entrance lobby of the firm Edlund & Adler at approximately 2:15am on Sunday morning.`

`Eyewitnesses reported seeing a man leave the building, who was instantly set upon by three other men.`

`People at the scene then saw one of the assailants pull out a knife.`

`Witnesses say the man who was set upon was able to obtain the knife quickly and incapacitate his attackers with non-lethal force.`

`The scene is still taped off by police, while an investigation takes place.`

`One of the witnesses, an employee of the firm, said: “He didn't even hesitate. He grabbed the knife, I think he took a slash to his arm or something, and then stabbed the guy in the shoulder, then it looked like he ham-stringed another guy. The last man was about to jump him from behind when he turned and kneed him in the stomach. I didn't see what happened next, but the attacker was unconscious by the time he got to them.”`

`A spokesman for the Police said: “At 02:20 police received a call reporting a disturbance outside the offices of Edlund & Adler. The call reported an attack involving a knife. A number of police resources attended, and the three alleged attackers have been taken to hospital under guard. The fourth man has been taken in for questioning.”`


	12. Chapter 12

`  
Transcript of interview of Castiel James Novak at 04:16. Detective Victor Henriksen attending. `

`VH: Mr. Castiel James Novak? Please can you confirm your name and occupation for me?`  
  
`CJN: I am Castiel James Novak, yes. I am a museum curator, author and part time security guard at Edlund & Adler.`  
  
`VH: Thank you. OK, now, just so you know, you are not being arrested at this time, and nor are you under oath. We just want to know what happened. If you could answer all of our questions honestly and simply that would be helpful.`  
  
`CJN: Yes Sir.`  
  
`VH: Can you tell me where you were on the night in question, between the hours of 2am and approximately 2:15am?`  
  
`CJN: At 2am I clocked off from work, having been relieved by another member of staff-`  
  
`VH: Can you tell me their name?`  
  
`CJN: Ronald Reznik`  
  
`VH: Thank you, continue.`  
  
`CJN: I entered the changing room, hung up my jacket and locked my gun in the gun locker. I'm not sure what time I left exactly, about 10 past 2 I assume. Ron had already left the front desk for his patrol anyway. I swiped my self through the doors and put my card back in my pocket. I…`  
  
`VH: Please go on Mr. Novak.`  
  
`CJN: Very well. I said I didn't know the time at this point. I was heading to my car which was parked in the staff parking at the rear of the building. I heard some one say “go” when I stepped out of the cover of the entry way.`  
`I saw three men-`  
  
`VH: Can you describe the men or the voice you heard?`  
  
`CJN: The voice was deep? But it had been in a sort of half-whisper. I didn't notice an accent. One of the men was shorter than myself, I think he was black. I couldn't see his skin easily through the balaclava they all wore. The other two were taller than my self. About the same height as each other. They were both white. One of them had thick, dark coloured eyebrows.`  
  
`VH: Black or brown hair?`  
  
`CJN: I couldn't tell it was too dark.`  
  
`VH: OK. What happened next?`  
  
`CJN: The three men came at me from behind one of the bushes planted by the door way. The tall man without visible eyebrows pulled a knife from behind him and told me to give him my door pass.`  
`I didn't think. I have training. My response was a reflex. I saw his stance was off, he wasn't trained, so I accepted I may get hurt, but I would be able to acquire the knife to protect myself.`  
`I took a cut to my right forearm as I pulled him off balance to get the knife from him. Once I had the knife in my possession I automatically aimed for the top of the man's right bicep. The man dropped to the floor, holding the wound.`  
`I turned to the black man who had turned to the fallen one. I lunged and I believe I partially severed his hamstring. He too fell to the floor holding the wound.`  
`Pushing back up I span to take the one behind me. I kneed him in the stomach as he approached me from behind. I winded him. He dropped to the floor. I punched him on the side of the skull with enough force to knock him out, but it should not give him concussion.`  
`At that point-`  
  
`VH: Hold on. Can I ask why you are so proficient in fighting, wielding a knife, and causing non-lethal, non-debilitating injury?`  
  
`CJN: I am trained in the expert use of many weapons, but especially knives. I am an expert fighter. I am an expert in the art of warfare. My job at the museum and the books I have written are testament to this. My expertise are not unknown, although this is the first time I have used them outside of a sparring ring.`  
  
`VH: Right. OK. At that point then-`  
  
`CJN: At that point, an employee of the firm-`  
  
`VH: Of Edlund & Adler?`  
  
`CJN: Yes. An employee who I see working late every Saturday, and his brother, who I also see regularly in the building joined me.`  
`They were out of breath.`  
`Sam-`  
  
`VH: You know their names?`  
  
`CJN: Yes I met Sam properly for the first time last Saturday, and he indicated the other man was his brother at the time. Their names are Sam and Dean Winchester.`  
`Sam who is the employee, went to the attackers and checked them. Dean called the police and took me to one side to talk to me. I believe I had gone in to shock. I think I still am.`  
  
`VH: Are there any details you think pertinent from when this Sam and Dean showed up?`  
  
`CJN: No? Sam is a lawyer, I think he knows not to disturb a crime scene.`  
  
`VH: And the other one?`  
  
`CJN: I think he's a mechanic. He took me aside to calm me down. He put his jacket around me.`  
`I kept hold of the knife until the police took it off me.`  
`I think Sam and Dean made statements? I can't really remember much from that point.`  
  
`VH: OK, Mr. Novak. Your arm's been seen to?`  
  
`CJN: Yes.`  
  
`VH: OK. We'll put you in a cell overnight, while we talk to your assailants. We'll need to talk to these Winchesters as the only witnesses, but I think this looks like a case of self defence, assuming that the injuries to your attackers are as you say they are. If they turn out to be more serious, or one of them dies, you will be arrested.`  
  
`CJN: Yes Sir. Thank you.`  



	13. Chapter 13

_“CASTIEL!” Sam shouted, but it was Dean's face that swam in front of him. His green eyes pinning him to the spot. “CASTIEL!” Sam's voice faded away in to the trees. “I'm sorry I didn't text you back, Dean” The trees we're growing darker. More ominous. “Text? What text?” Three black shadows detached themselves from the trees and crept up around him and Dean, encircling them. “Come on man, it's all right, you're in shock, you'll be fine.” The circle of shadows grew tall, making him feel like he was at the bottom of a well with Dean next to him. The darkness surrounds them completely.“You're The Beautiful Man.” He hears himself whisper horsely. The hugely tall black walls sprouted serrated knives. Spiralling up and up and up out of sight. Castiel wondered if he could use them to climb out. “Beautiful man? What-” He reached out to the knives. “I see you every Saturday. You come to get your brother. You never look at me. Then you had a girlfriend. You've never seen me.” Dean laughs quietly. Castiel grabs the first knife, looking up at the pin prick of light above him that is the way out. “Well, I can see you're in shock. You're shaking. Here, take my jacket.” Castiel jerks his hand away in surprise to actually look at Dean, and in so doing slashes deeply in to his forearm._

Castiel sits bolt upright in the cold dark cell, sweating and breathing deeply. All he can do is remember the dream, and the conversation with Dean the night before. 

It looked like shock loosened his tongue. Now The Beautiful Man never _will_ want him. Not after all that. Not after his thousand yard stare and verbal diarrhoea. Maybe it would be best to let himself get arrested. He could pretend it was pre-meditated. Or, that it was his knife. Yeah. Then he wouldn't have to see Dean again.


	14. Chapter 14

On being released, with a warning not to go running out of state, and that they'll be in touch, Castiel finally gets his belongings back. His phone trills in his hand just as it starts up. Dread sinks in to his stomach, adding to the weight of the whole previous night, and terrible night's sleep in the cell. What if it's Dean? He doesn't want to speak to anyone just now, not even Dean. It must be Dean. Crap.

It's not Dean.

The name in the screen was Sera Siege. His publishing agent.

<< 10.32  
Do not answer the phone to ANYONE! Call me when you get this.

“Sera?”  
“Castiel! Thank God! Are you OK? Well, you'll never guess, that newspaper article made it's way online, and national! You'll never guess what?  
“Sera, I don't even- What newspaper?”  
“It doesn't matter! A director wants you to consult on the fighting in his movie! YOU'VE MADE IT!”  
“I- What- Look, I've just got out of a prison cell-”  
“I know! Isn't it great!”  
“Yes? Look Sera, can you email all the details over? I need to just sleep, like, more than four hours, eat something. I can't really take this in just now.”  
“Sure thing! This is so exciting!”  
“Talk later Sera.”

Castiel hangs up. A whole slew of emotions run through Castiel's head and body, leaving him tense and on edge. He feels dread at the thought of facing Dean after his confession the previous night. There's general depression, fear and anger at being set upon and attacked. Worry, that he'd resorted to hurting three men, and potential re-arrest. And, now a tiny bubbling of elation that maybe he might be able to do something as amazing as consult on movies. That last part really hadn't sunk in yet though.

He feels entirely detached from reality. What he really wants is a bath, a whiskey and a pile of pancakes.

It was 10:45. He could at least address the gnawing hunger deep in his belly. Tiredly slinking in to the nearest café and ordering coffee. Large. Lots. And, pancakes. Blueberry. He swipes open his phone. It's dangerously close to running out of battery, but he navigates to a browser and searches for the newspaper Sera had referred to. Two articles pop up. The first written and published over night, the second only published online about an hour ago.

 

`THE CHRONICLE ONLINE`

**` WAR AUTHOR SAVES FINANCIAL FIRM` **

`In the early hours of Sunday morning three men launched at attempted robbery against the firm Edlund & Adler in the city. `

`Our sources have confirmed that three men set upon an off duty security guard who had just exited the building. The security guard, one Castiel James Novak, more commonly known as James Novak, a well known author, fought off and incapacitated all three attackers single handedly.`

`Witnesses reported that an attacker pulled out a knife, but Novak was able to obtain the weapon and turn it on his attackers saving himself. Sources say Novak injured all three men. It is believed that all three attackers are in a stable condition in hospital at this time. `

`Novak has written a number of books on weaponry and the art of warfare. Well known in academic circles, his books are sure to find a greater audience now, after proving his skills in the real world.`

`It is still unclear what the would-be thieves were hoping to achieve by breaking in to Edlund & Adler. The firm has one of the most up-to-date security systems available and, according to our sources, holds only limited assets in their vault. `

`Novak is still in for questioning at this point. I think I can speak for everyone, that assuming his arrest is temporary, as surely it should be, we will all follow his career more closely from now on.`

 

His only thought before sinking his teeth in to the huge pile of steaming pancakes is that he really ought to have picked a more obscure pen name.


	15. Chapter 15

First on the list he made in his head that morning was the next thing to be seen to. Finally arriving back in his beloved apartment, he started his ancient heating system up to slowly heat enough water for a bath. While he waits the hour it usually takes to heat enough, he slides down in to the plushy white sofa. Pulling a soft, well used, knitted blanket over his knees, and setting an alarm on his phone, he rests his head back on the soft cushions and drops instantly asleep.

1 hour 15 minutes later finds him slowly sinking in to a full, bubble filled, old fashioned claw footed bath tub in a high ceilinged, echo filled, tiled bathroom. Pressing play on the music player he drops his phone on to the edge of the sink and he slides under the water listening to the wavering notes of Pink Floyd.

As the slightly too hot water starts to ease the knotted muscles of his neck and back, he begins to day dream about the last unattended to item on his list of the day; whiskey.

He hasn't been out in a long time. His spare time is limited, and of what he does have is usually spent researching and writing for his next book. He's spent a lot of time lately practising with his replica Khanda for his current project; Weaponry of India. So, it's a little surprising to find him at the bar not far from his house. Despite a rather refined whiskey collection in his cabinet in his apartment, he felt a pull to leave and surround him self with humanity. 

Through a mild whiskey induced haze he finds that there seems to be a particular part of humanity standing very close to him, all red hair and creamy skin.

<< 22:46  
Hey agin. Sry to keep txtin u. but r u Casteel? He sed he txt me. He wkrs wit my bro. U sed u did 2...so r u him?

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

He hasn't had enough of the, quite frankly, revoltingly rough whiskey to cope with the events of the past 24 hours or so, let alone this latest development. He looks at the redhead standing next to him, twirling strands around her fingers while she eyes him blatantly. Maybe it's his throw-back-to-university music choice earlier, but he's feeling a little reckless, much like he used to be. Perhaps he should switch his hedonists choice from whiskey to sex, he thinks eyeing the girl, smiling. Dean and his beautiful face be damned. He's embarrassed enough about dazedly revealing himself to Dean without actually confirming that he is a crazy text message wielding stalker. Maybe if the consultation deal works out, he can quit the security job. There, a solution to avoid Dean for the rest of his life that didn't involve confessing to a crime he didn't commit. Perfect.

Perfect didn't, on the other hand, describe the woman now snaking her arm around his waist. But, nor did many other descriptors. She was not ugly, bland or mesmerising either. Pretty, interested and suggesting they share a joint on the way to her place, though, those did describe her. He smiled, remembering many of his 'study sessions' at uni. He downed the whiskey and followed her out to the recently rain washed tarmac of the parking lot. 

Following her in to her living room, soaked to the skin and laughing, Castiel recognises his younger self in him more now than he has in a long time. Drugs, sex, alcohol, history lectures and weapon training. That had been uni for him. She hands him the joint and he takes a deep drag, grinning. They haven't spoken much. Her red hair falls in wet curls about her shoulders. She looks suddenly serious, and Castiel, pushing down all thoughts of The Beautiful Man, decides another drag on the spliff is the best of ideas, and then having sex with the pretty, concerned looking woman in the wet tank top is the next best idea.


	16. Chapter 16

It's 6am.

He thinks that, looking back on things, perhaps drinking what, retrospectively was a lot of whiskey, and running through the city in the rain and smoking a few joints, which he hasn't partaken of in a loooooong time, then trying to have sex with a women, (also been a long time, by the way,) was probably a really quite terrible idea. Especially on the heels of Dean having pretty much worked out who he was.

Hot chocolate and early to bed might have been cleverer.

Leaving the woman's home last night had been the best decision of the whole evening. Seeing her again was high on his list of things never to do.

Stoned and drunk anxiety/celebration/stress relief sex hadn't been good.

Her serious expression had quickly turned in to strange talks of guilt and intimacy and trust issues. That had turned quickly in to her sitting in his lap removing his clothes whilst she rotated her hips against his groin. He'd been so zoned out that he'd thought nothing of it as she slipped off him to the floor, and pulled his jeans down with her. After possibly the worlds worst blow job, all teeth and the wrong kind of pressure, Castiel was a somewhat less chilled out. But, he hadn't come back to himself from the drug and alcohol induced haze enough yet to think of stopping her when she decided it was high time for some penetration. She awkwardly stripped her clothes in front of him (least sexy strip tease despite her beautiful body,) got to her knees to awkwardly roll on a condom, then wobbling to her feet, straddled him. From there she worked quickly and roughly. And loudly. With lots of hair flicking. 

Suffice to say her consciousness didn't remain long after her rather over the top, breathy orgasm.

If Castiel hadn't been so stoned he would have been mortified for himself and embarrassed for her.

This was not good. 

Still unfulfilled, Castiel lifted her off him, and laid her on the sofa, covering her with a blanket he found. What arousal he'd had was gone in moments. He escaped with all haste out the front door, feeling only mildly guilty.

Getting in to his beautiful apartment an hour later was heavenly. The walk had helped burn off some of the burning embarrassment and shame which had crept up as the buzz had dissipated. He stripped, scrubbed him self clean in a too-hot shower, and sank in to his large, fluffy, clean, white bed.

Never again. Casual sex with a crazy, intense, stoner lady to drown out the buzzing in his skull? Nope. No. Just, no.

He rolls out of bed. Firmly pushing the thought of Dean's text message from the night before out of his head he staggers towards his white kitchen and well used coffee machine. Thank God he has time for some especially gut rotting, strong and bitter coffee before he has to get ready for work.


	17. Chapter 17

Mail to: hannah.johnson@edlundadler.com  
Subject: Notification of intention to hand in notice  
Message:

Dear Hannah,

I'm sorry I am unable to talk to you in person, but as we work different shift patterns I have to resort to emailing you the news.

But firstly I want to thank you for being such a supportive boss through out our acquaintance. I am glad to have worked with you over the past year.

Since, and in part, because of, the incident last week, I have actually been offered a great opportunity to consult at film studios. I have already had an interview with one director and another has contacted my agent about further work. Although I'll still be living locally, and any movie work will be irregular, I think it is time for me to move on from security work at Edlund & Adler. I wish to be able to use my expertise, not just write about them!

To this end, I am letting you know that I shall be handing in my notice tomorrow morning (by email) and I will work my three week notice period. I will be in work as usual this Friday.

Thank you once again,  
Kindest regards,  
Castiel Novak

-

Mail to: castiel.novak@edlundadler.com  
Subject: RE: Notification of intention to hand in notice  
Message:

Dear Castiel,

I am really glad that you have found something more worthwhile to do with your time than slaving away doing nights on our front desk! Truly, I am very happy for you. Sad that you are leaving of course, but very happy for you.

So, yes, I accept your resignation.

Over the past year though, you have not taken any holiday leave, and therefore I can let you have the next three weekend's worth of work off, as paid holiday, if you would like that? I can arrange cover for this Friday, so there is no need to worry about that.

Please let me know and I can arrange everything.

A pleasure to have worked with you Castiel,  
Yours,  
Hannah.


	18. Chapter 18

“Sera?”  
“Castiel! How are you?”  
“I'm fine Sera. And you?”  
“Wonderful! Now, I know you only spoke to the second studio yesterday, so I haven't heard back from them as yet. The first is still working on a schedule and contracts so we won't hear from them for a few weeks now.”  
“I knew that Sera, you told me yesterday. What was it you wanted?”  
“Oh yes! So I got a call this morning from a small film company based four or five hours drive away. They're doing some thirties cops and robbers short or something like that! All car chases and gun fights on roofs apparently. They wanted to know if you were interested? It wouldn't be a long thing, you'd be able to go in and teach them how to hold their guns right and be done long before we hear back from the other studios. Kicks off in two days. What do you say?”


	19. Chapter 19

Castiel finally drags himself out of bed at an unseemly midday. He undresses and leaves last nights clothes in a heap on the floor, wallet and phone still in the pockets.

Using his first weekend of paid holiday, he had given Gabriel a call and arranged to go out for drinks and some food, before taking leave from the museum to start consulting on Monday morning. He figured he ought to update his brother on his close shave with almost being a statistic of knife crime, and his new job set-up.

It had been a long night despite being asleep by midnight.

There had been pink liquids with sparklers and umbrellas in.

There had been black, green, blue, purple, red and orange drinks too. Sometimes fizzy, sometimes with layers, sometimes so horrible he'd downed them just to get rid of them.

There might have been an awkward question about why people avoided people they like for no good reason. He'd been told “because idiocy.” Thankfully Gabe had been too smashed to really pick up on the question and start asking awkward questions of his own.

Castiel stood in the white bathroom with the gold coloured shower head spewing high pressure, painfully hot water over his head, down his back and in to the claw footed tub.

His head was pounding as if he'd taken a fist to his temple. 

His eyes felt dry and itchy, like someone had put sandpaper under the top and bottom eyelids.

His mouth actually hurt, as if he'd been chewing sour sweets for days.

His stomach roiled, empty and sloshing all at once.

This. This was why he didn't bother drinking all that often.

He sets to work actually getting clean. Washing the smell of sticky alcohol, over enthusiastic perfume spritzes, Gabe's vomit, cigarette smoke and kebab off him. Soaping up his hands and running them through his dark hair, he massages his skull a little. The heat starts soaking in, making him feel better. He starts rubbing himself down with a wash cloth, bubbles removing every trace of the evening. He'll have to change his bedding, he thinks to himself, as his hands wash between his legs. He'd passed out in his reeking clothes under the duvet, the crisp white sheets would reek equally now. After washing between his toes he leans his hands and forehead against the cold white tiles underneath the shower head, eyes closed, willing his head ache away. 

Unthinkingly he reaches again for the shower gel; Grapefruit and Sea Buckthorn. Replacing the bottle and resting his weight against the one arm now pressed against the tiles, his soaped up hand winds back down his torso. His mind flashes to the question he put to Gabe. “Why Gabe. Whhyy if you think you might a little bit sort of like some one. And and and and they talk to you? Why wouldn't you talk back? Why do you get scared?” Castiel's head dropped back on his shoulders, taking a face full of near scolding water. His soapy hand goes back between his legs as his mind settles on Dean. His handsome chiselled face, his attention seeking soft lips, his intense green eyes, his strong wide shoulders, his adorable bow legs. Castiel grips himself firmly, stiffening quickly. Letting a small sigh escape his lips, he drops his head back down, water pouring over his hair, pouring in rivulets across his shoulders and down his belly, washing the soap from his hand. He slowly but firmly jerks his hand up and down his shaft, wondering how to reply to dean's last text asking if he was 'Casteel.' Leaning even more heavily against the cool wall, he tries to banish the confusing thoughts running around his mind. Just think of The Beautiful Man, before he became Dean. Before he leant you his jacket. Just golden skin and spiky hair from afar. Castiel groaned in the silence of his steamy bathroom as his hand sped up, sometimes slipping down to cup his balls. What if it were Dean's hands? No. Just The Beautiful Man. You don't know him. Maybe you never will. Text him back. Don't text him back. Green eyes. Soft lips. Soft lips enveloping him. Tight heat and pressure. Castiel groans again, deep in the back of his throat. Jaw clenching he pumps his hand more solidly, with greater speed, swiping his thumb over his slit which is washed clean the second any pre-come escapes. What if it were Dean's tongue swiping over the head? What if… what if… Castiel lets out a half grunt, half groan as he climaxes, come spurting in to his fist, with the image of Dean's glinting green eyes looking up at him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an art now on my website which is acceptable. It's actually jumping ahead in the story a little, so may give a teeny hint of something to come.
> 
> [Future chapter art on Anonymous Antonym](https://anonymousantonym.wordpress.com/2015/11/19/all-good-things/)

With a mug of his can-stand-a-spoon-upright-in-it-it's-so-strong coffee in his belly, he felt able to tackle stripping the bed and doing laundry. After his usual argument with the duvet cover the bed was stripped and re-made to it's standard crisp snowy cloud like state. Looking with distaste at the pile of clothes from the night before he picks them up with his finger tips and wonders towards the washing machine. He rifles through the pockets before throwing everything in the drum, finding his wallet, phone and a handful of loose change. The phone was flashing blue with a message notification. Was probably Gabe asking if he'd made it home alive. 

Still kneeling on the floor in front of the open washing machine in his white tiled utility room, Castiel swipes his phone open. 

His mouth drops open. Seven texts from Dean.

<< 01:13 Ur ignorin me. Sams havin a chik flik cry at me cos his man crush author quit his job. 

<< 01:15 Sams takin ages pissing. Why r u ignoring me? Sam wnted to say hi tonite. But u quit new guy sed. 

<< 01:17 Sams still pissing. Tlk 2 meeeee. 

<< 03:32 hy. u stil owe me a drnk btw. 

-

<< 12:31  
Oh god. Sry bout last nite. Mite have been drinkin. 

<< 12:33  
But seriously have u blocked me? I lent u my coat. Not jst any1 gets that treatment y'no?

<< 12:45  
I gues I dnt even no if u really are knife guy. Nvr mind

After all his rumination about last night, after thinking about the man's last text, which had been sent nearly a week ago, just before he'd gone off with that girl, April, he thinks, then after jerking off to a vision of his lips wrapped around his cock? The men had text him while he was jerking off to him! Jesus. 

The phrase 'because idiocy' innocently floats up in his mind and refuses to be wished away.

Eyes glazing over, kneeling on the utility room floor, not really knowing what to say, he presses reply.

>> 13:12  
My name is Castiel.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I couldn't find much in the way of info to help describe Castiel's training, so it's pretty vague. Hopefully those of you reading don't mind too much! 
> 
> Oh, and thanks for reading my 2nd ever attempt at writing anything ever really! This is just me doin' this so apologies for any and all errors!

“Will you quit touching me like that?”  
“I'm sorry, what?” Castiel blinks in surprise, but steps away from the other man.  
“Stop touching me! Jesus. You haven't stopped touching my hips for half an hour. I'm not fucking gay so get off.”

When Castiel had accepted the short job on a period crime drama, there were only two short fight scenes after all, he hadn't quite expected it to be like this. It was day 1 and he was already having an argument with an ass-hole of an actor. Make that an ass-hole of a homophobic actor.

“Well I am gay, and believe me, I take no joy in touching you, but you're standing wrong! You wouldn't hold that stance to fight. You'd be knocked off your feet almost immediately.” Castiel moved back in, reaching out to push the actor's leg in to the correct place.  
“Get off me you fucking faggot. I don't need you telling me how to fucking stand. And I certainly don't need you groping me to do it.” The man steps away from him, turning to face him head on, bristling with indignation.  
“Clearly you do as you are doing it wrong.”  
“How can I do it wrong? Just because you lot mince around the fucking place.”  
“I'm trying to teach you a fighting stance so that you don't come across on the fucking screen like a mincing faggot limply waving your flick knife about! Seeing as you can't follow my instructions, it seems I have to manoeuvre you physically!”

The determined slurs falling from the actors mouth were painful to hear, but nothing he couldn't handle. Gordon Walker was not the first prejudiced dick he'd come across. He was riled though, and he felt no need to hold back the anger.

“Or, do you want to look like some sort of effeminate gay boy in the final cut? Because that's what you'll look like if you don't get the stance right!”

A new voice suddenly cut through the heated argument from behind Castiel.

“Uh, Gordon? This dude bothering you?”

Castiel sees Gordon's eyes flick to the person behind him before he spins around on the spot to view the interruption himself. Dean. Dean's eyes widen in surprise, and then hurt confusion settles in to his expression.

“Uh, Gordon, why don't we grab a coffee? I need to talk to you about the car scene anyway.”

Dean looks behind him as he follows a smug looking Gordon from the room, angry and calculating eyes glinting at Castiel. Castiel's rage returns in an instant. He took Gordon's side. Dean accepts the homophobic shit-head's views. Of course he does. This is his life after all. He cant help his righteous anger from spilling out though, he needs to confront Dean, even if not in person. 

>> 16:33  
Is that why you haven't text me back? You are revolted by my sexuality after all?

<< 16:33  
Wat? U were the 1 calling gordon a effemniate gay boy

>> 16:34  
What? No. He'd been harassing me. I don't take kindly to it generally.

-

Castiel's head is still an almighty whirl of anger, misery, disappointment and defeat two hours later. After Dean walking Gordon out of their training room, everyone else had been busy for the day on other things, so he'd had no one to train for the rest of the afternoon. After the short text conversation with Dean, Castiel felt as if all his hopes and dreams on that front had been entirely squashed. He'd headed back to the training room with his practice swords under his arm, fury and frustration pouring off him in waves. Dean didn't want anything to do with him because he was- Castiel can hardly finish the thought- Dean was homophobic? He'd considered it of course, as you do thinking about asking out a guy you've never met before. He'd expected to be shunned by The Beautiful Man because he'd assumed him to be straight. He'd expected Dean's reaction to be that of surprise, maybe a little squirming awkwardness, maybe even a little controlled nausea, it wasn't unknown after all. But outright siding with a man who'd been throwing slurs at him with out a second thought? Asking if Gordon was the one who needed help. He was appalled. 

Castiel's sword swung around his head in a controlled curve. He'd locked the door behind him to ensure no one could get in the way of his heavy bamboo Shinai while he worked through his anger. 

How could he have let him self become completely infatuated by some one who protected bastards like Gordon? He span on his toes swiping the sword through the air then danced back on his feet to his balanced stance, taking a heavy breath before angrily pushing himself in to the next set of moves. Jesus but he was out of shape. He'd been wielding the heavy sword for ninety minutes and he was panting and gasping for breath and sweat was pouring off him, trickling from his forehead in to his eyes and mouth, and spattering the floor as it flew from his damp hair when he spun. His fury leapt another level at the thought. Last time he was upset and bewildered he'd gone off to drown his sorrows in alcohol, weed and a women. He was such a failure. At thirty he'd become all-but some desk monkey. Checking entries in the museum, polishing the ancient weaponry he looked after there, walking slowly around an office building at the weekend and lying on his white sofa in his white apartment writing about guns and swordplay and armour and war. All this time he could barely work through the basic moves without bursting a lung.

Thrusting his sword forward, as if to stab an invisible opponent in the guts Castiel let out a savage half yell, half grunt. He wasn't wearing the traditional gear for this sort of fighting, but as he was only sparring alone it wouldn't matter, he wouldn't get hurt. His old grey t-shirt was sticking to him, his sweat pants clinging to his thighs as he worked even harder against his rage. He was so angry at Dean, but he felt angry at himself too. For letting himself want Dean, for letting him self get out of practice, out of shape, for not pushing himself to do what he loves, for being shy, for being stupid, for being useless. He feels a fury growling in his gut that he's never felt before, and it's not because some ass-hole couldn't accept the fact he likes guys. He takes a leap and slide forward, arms raising over his head, every ounce of power he has in his arms focused on smashing the sword down in to his imaginary enemy as he drops to his knees on the floor. All he can see is his own face on that of the bleeding corpse felled in front of him. He suddenly realises that he's disgusted with himself.

Kneeling on the floor, sword still stretched out in it's killing blow in front of him on the matting, Castiel lets his head drop back on his shoulders so he's staring at the ceiling. He realises it's not just sweat tracing down his heated face. He's still panting. Too exhausted physically and emotionally to give a damn.


	22. Chapter 22

Castiel steps in to the crappy shower in his hotel room. There's almost no water pressure, just a dribble of water spewing from the stained shower head. None the less it's hot, which after two hours flinging himself around the training room, his muscles really need. His hair is plastered to his skull washing out the accumulated sweat of the day. He's too tired to be angry any more. He even feels a little better. But, he just wants to sleep. Now he's basically flung a tantrum, admittedly one with a large sword, he feels more at peace. He's still upset that Dean acted the way he did, and, he doesn't know how to stop wanting him, but maybe knowing he's not perfect at all will help the infatuation fade. He's still angry at him self too. But, maybe he can take all the revelations he made and do something with them. He already has an amazing opportunity, homophobic actors aside, to actually use his talents. It's not like he'll have much choice but to get back in to training now. He'd die of shame if he found an actor who could out fight him. He's still not sure what to do about feeling shy and stupid and useless. Maybe he ought to push himself to do something new. Outside his comfort zone. He's not particularly proficient with a long bow… Hardly outside his comfort zone though. Castiel snickers to himself. Alcohol, weed, and dubious sexual encounters were the norm for him at uni. But dating? Not so much. Maybe he ought to get on a dating website. That'd help with the Dean problem wouldn't it?

He steps out from under the now lukewarm water, rotating his shoulders to try and ease the stiffness that's settled in despite his cool down stretching. He wraps one of the scratchy hotel towels around his hips, catching the top edge of his tattoo in the mirror as he passes. He flops down on the bed, hips bouncing up as his shoulders hit the blankets. Eyeing the clock hung at a skewed angle on the wall, he realises that it's only just before seven and he's totally starving.

That being sufficient motivation to get him moving again he goes to grab a fresh pair of sweat pants, he didn't bring anything nicer with him for a week of hard training. He knows the canteen trailer will have enough hot food to see him through, hopefully he won't bump in to Dean or Gordon there. As that thought passes through his mind, and he rummages in his bag for a clean t-shirt, his phone gives off it's irritating trill from his bedside table where he'd dumped it earlier before showering. Grumbling and wondering if maybe it was Gabe he swipes the screen open and freezes.

<< 19:02  
Ok, so…. gordon is 1 sick piece of messed up scum. 

<< 19:03  
He started mouthing off at me 2 after I asked him wat happened wit u. 

<< 19:03  
Sry man. U were right. think I got th wrong end of the stick. I only heard u insult him. 

<< 19:05  
He prob will look lke an effeminate gay boy no matter what u do tho. Dnt think his overcompensation will show up on screen y'no?

At this Castiel's face goes from one of open mouthed shock to surprised amusement. He huffs out a tiny laugh. Well, that was unexpected. Dean and apologies? He hadn't seen that one coming. Without giving it much more thought than the now familiar litany of _no more waiting_ , and with a tiny flash of the self loathing and desire to push himself to do new things from earlier, he taps reply.

>> 19:06  
Us gay boys can wield a weapon perfectly well though, so maybe it won't matter? 

<< 19:07  
U wield a weapon?

>> 19:08  
Yes? What did you think I was doing here? 

<< 17:11  
Teaching people how to fight?

>> 17:12  
Exactly... 

<< 17:14  
Oh, wait, ur doin that too!?

Castiel starts typing out his confused reply, frowning. What the hell was Dean talking about? Suddenly he feels heat surge in to his cheeks as he realises what Dean meant. “Not _that_ kind of weapon Dean.” He whispers out loud to himself as he snickers and finishes his text.

>> 17:17  
What? Oh. You're such a little shit. 

<< 17:17  
:D


	23. Chapter 23

“OK, So I want to welcome Mr. Winchester, he couldn't make it up in time for yesterday's meeting. He's helping us keep those God forsaken old cars working enough for us to shoot. He'll be here until the end of the week while we've got 'em on loan. Mr. Novak over there will still be working on all the fighting scenes. You got a lot blocked out yesterday, so guys, come on please, you have to get this practised over the next couple of days. I want it wrapped up by the end of the week too. Please work with Mr. Novak. None of your shit OK?”

The director looked pointedly at Gorgon Walker. 

“Right, what else? Oh yes, stop taking the piss with the caterers, we're not made of money, eating the budget isn't on. Gemma will need you all today at some point for fittings, she'll be coming to find you throughout the day. Ok, fighters go with Mr. Novak now, and I need to speak with you Lucy, and you Rich, we have to block out the scene on the roof. Mr. Winchester, if you'll check that car we talked about earlier? It was making odd noises yesterday. And, Bill, please set up the make-up trailer, we'll get Paul's bits filmed later on. Thank you everyone, lets go!”

“Cas! Castiel!”  
Castiel turns slowly, half dreading this confrontation. And, _Cas?_  
“Dean.” How is he blushing already? He's not even made eye contact yet.  
“Hey man, about the shit I gave you yesterday. I only heard the last thing you said. Obviously I got things the wrong way around a little.”  
“That your apology for ruining my reaming out of a prissy little homophobic bastard of an actor?”  
“Uuh. Yeah?”  
“Apology accepted.”  
Dean grins. What the fuck? He's been dreaming of this moment, of his first face to face conversation with Dean, The Beautiful Man, for a year, and he snarks at him? Get a grip.  
“Um. I- I have to go make actors hold submachine guns now...”  
“Oh, yeah. Right. I just- I. Yes. Cars. I'm here maintaining cars. Vintage cars. That's me.”  
Casteil just raises an eyebrow. He didn't take Dean to be the getting flustered type. He remembers that night in Edlund  & Adler, when they first made eye contact. He'd stuttered his way through a sentence then too. And, then he'd texted him to ask who 'Casteel' was.

Oh.

Oh shit!

The man was starting to turn away, shaking his head to himself. “Dean?” _No more waiting, no more waiting, no more waiting._

“Uh, yeah, Cas?”  
“I believe I still owe you a beer yes?”

It was like sunshine breaking out through black cloud on a storm laden day. The man's soul lit up.

“Yeah, Cas, I reckon you do.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Struggling a tiny bit with this story at the moment. I'm trying to keep ahead by about 10 chapters so that there's room to go back an edit if need be. So, updates may slow for a little while. Comments and kudos may spur me on ;)

The week passed quickly and hectically in a flurry of fight training, mildly homophobic comments, bad food, worse sleep, long days and only fleeting glances of Dean in amongst his actors' attempts to hold a gun realistically. Castiel was entirely exhausted and sick to death of his miserable hotel room. He missed his apartment. He feels like this week was an enormous golden opportunity to get to know the man who has been on his mind since that first Saturday at Edlund & Adler, especially after mending their misunderstanding on Monday, but every chance has been stolen from him.

On Tuesday after the meeting where Dean accepted Castiel's suggestion they go for a beer, he had spotted the man twice, once just a half smile as Dean had glanced through the window of the closed door to his training room, surrounded by actors and camera crew. And, the other time across the large lot they kept the cars in as he was walking back to the hotel. Dean had been on his back under a car, a flood light washing him with light, bowed legs hitched up, pushing him further under so he could reach something, blue overalls stained with black oil at the knees. On Wednesday they'd caught each others eyes briefly at the morning meeting, Cas couldn't help a tiny smile flitting to his lips, but Dean had been set upon by the director, and the actor 'fighting' Gordon in the knife scene had spewed hundreds of questions at Castiel at the same time.

On Thursday they'd even spent a day on set side by side and still hadn't had a chance to do more than glance at each other. Well, Castiel was looking at Dean as often as he could and caught him looking in his direction at least twice. The cast were actually filming, but Dean had had to be roped in to “acting”. He was essentially being a stunt double because the actor playing a getaway driver couldn't fathom how to drive the old car without stripping the gear box. They'd spent ages re-blocking the scene so Dean's face couldn't be seen on camera. Castiel was there watching through the tiny screen, checking how the actors stances and firing technique came out on film. He'd had to jump in on numerous occasions to correct something glaringly wrong and explain that the recoil would be much worse if they were using live ammunition. He took a great, smug pleasure in man-handling Gordon in to a stance that was accurate, taking the chance to freak the guy out a little by sending him a flirty wink and smile from about eight inches in front of his face. Gordon had looked mildly terrified but had, nonetheless, swallowed loudly and flicked his eyes to Castiel's lips. Oh, the satisfaction.

But, now, it was Friday night. He'd not seen Dean all day today and he was back in the dingy hotel room throwing his sweat stained training clothes in to his bag. They'd wrapped up all the fighting scenes, and he was feeling proud of what he'd achieved over the week. His training swords and knives were already stowed in the locked trunk of his car. All he was waiting for now was his phone to wake up after having been completely drained of battery as he'd got in so late the previous night, he'd fallen asleep before plugging it in to charge. He was just dropping his wash bag in to the rucksack by the door when his phone made it's sleepy start-up tone from the bedside table. Cas immediately took the two strides across the room and sank on to the lumpy bed, grabbing his still charging phone in his hand. He felt guilty for not having spoken to Dean all week after their conversation, and now he was leaving.

>>21:14  
Sorry Dean, this week has been non-stop. Not had a chance for that beer, or to text obviously. I was too busy to even charge my phone until now.

<< 21:15  
Nah man its been mental 4 me 2. rain check yeh?

>> 21:15  
OK.

Cas didn't know how else to respond. He was stupidly happy that Dean didn't seem to think their chance had been ruined.

<< 21:17  
director sed todays ur last day? Im not done for another 2 or 3. Ill give u a shout when im bak yeh?

He feels like fist pumping the air, accept he's a grown up and way too mature for that kind of thing. He does however grin 'til his cheeks hurt.

>> 21:17  
I look forward to it.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still totally stuck on the chapter I'm trying to write! Updates will probably stop now until I've got a few more chapters done. That, or I'll start writing some horrible errors in, and I'm pretty sure there's too many of those already!
> 
> Sorry for the lack of easy to read formatting on this one, but it's basically one paragraph.

“Castiel!”  
Castiel turns toward the yell that echoed around the thriving lobby of Edlund & Adler. It was almost painfully different here at lunch time than it was at 2am.  
“Sam?”  
“Yeah! How are you?” Sam was out of breath a little, as if he'd jogged across the lobby. His yellow paisley tie was slung over his shoulder.  
“I'm very well, thank you. You?”  
“I'm great! Dean mentioned he'd run in to you on that film set he was coerced in to working on.” He said huffing a little laugh and straightening his tie out.  
“Coerced?” Castiel frowned.  
“Well, he didn't really want to go, but his boss made him. Bobby, his boss, isn't great around people. Besides Dean's the best around with vintage cars. Anything from the ninteen-twenties to the early eighties really. Restores them and knows how to drive the more quirky models properly.”  
“I see.” Cas readily absorbs all the information about Dean, whilst wondering why Sam had run across the lobby to tell him this. He wasn't exactly used to people wanting to just chat with him.  
“Yeah. He spent ten days or so laughing and shouting at people stalling the cars, he said.” Sam looks around him for a second. “So, what are you doing back here? Is that- I mean, you have quit here haven't you?”  
“Yes, I'm on my lunch break from the museum, just picking up my last wage slip. I have more consulting work lined up, so I won't be returning here.”   
“That's great! You're teaching people to knife fight?”  
“Yes, well artificial weapon training. Did Dean say?”  
“Kinda. He saw you on set, and he- he called saying that you were there.” Sam suddenly looked a little shifty. “I'd already explained that you were the author of the book he got me a few weeks ago.” Sam looks at the floor as if a little short on some thing to say. Castiel, as ever with small talk, finds his mind blank. All he wants to do is ask after Dean, but he feels like someone's gripping his entire chest hard, and he can't form the words. Sam continues after a beat. “I take it that detective- Henrikson? didn't charge you?”  
“No. It was deemed self defence, and I didn't cause any particularly bad injuries. Thank you for your witness statements though.”  
“It's nothing man, I'm so glad we were there!”  
“Yes, me too. Security footage should have cleared me, but your statements certainly helped.” Castiel genuinely felt grateful toward Sam and Dean for helping him that night.  
“Thank God. I was worried. Dean and I had been out drinking. We were pretty hammered, or we'd have ran down the road sooner to help you- not that you needed help obviously! We were only on our way back to pick up my briefcase before heading home.”  
“Oh. I-”  
“Castiel!” A new voice cut across their conversation.  
“Hannah.” Castiel smiled in greeting to his old boss. He takes her hand to shake it. Sam nods at her in familiar greeting.  
“I'll let you get to it.”  
“Thank you. Bye Sam.” He nods at Sam, in thanks, and goodbye.  
“Bye.”  
“Here's your pay slips Castiel. How did things go on the film set?”


	26. Chapter 26

_So, lets see._ Castiel thinks to himself. _I drove home on_ _Friday_ _night_ _and heard from Dean a little before that_ _. Went to work at the_ _museum_ _on Monday morning. Bumped in to Sam that lunch time. It's_ _Saturday_ _now_ _. I_ _should have heard from him by now right?_ _The Beautiful Man, who's smile can go from naught to sixty in so much less than a second. I got to see that smile. I got to make him smile. I was convinced he wanted to go for a beer with me. I thought, maybe, but I thought he really did like me. A little at least. Maybe after we sent a few text m_ _e_ _ssages he decided he d_ _idn_ _'t like me after all. Perhaps he thinks I'm boring? Maybe he's just busy. Maybe I should text him? Or is that too pushy? I don't want to ruin this. He's not some pot fuelled, drunken orgy. He's_ Dean _. But I don't even know anything about him! Well, he doesn't mind when I make acerbic comments. He's an expert on vintage cars. He has beautiful eyes. He looks adorable when he gets flustered. I fluster him! I still don't even know if he likes men! Jesus. What am I doing? Maybe I am some fucking weirdo stalker? Crap. Well, at least I don't follow him around. I don't even know where he works! Maybe I could look it up. I got his number off google after all. Hmm… Singer Auto. There's even a picture of him and his boss, I guess. The boss looks angry, but proud. I can see how Dean would make people angry and proud_ _at the same time_ _. Would it be weird to go and see him? Yes Castiel of course it would be weird to go and see him! You've met him a grand total of three times. Just because he's beautiful does not mean that you know him. It doesn't even mean that you'll like him! He could be a total ass-hole for all you know. Fuck. What do I do? I just want to ask him for a beer, not even a date, to see if we have anything to talk about! Maybe I'll drive past his garage_ _on Monday_ _and just sort of see if he's free for a beer after work. It's, let me see, only a little out of my way to work. OK, maybe quite a bit out of my way. I could say something needs fixing on the car? Would he think that was strange? Should I break something on the car? Smash a wing mirror? But there's a garage at the end of the street. Shit. What else is near there. A library! I can pretend that they have a particular book I need._ _Then, then, then, just sort of stop to ask about, ask for, a, a, a, a, quote? Maybe I can pretend that the local garage did a bad job fixing something. Or on the service. Yes. The car will need servicing again because I didn't trust the local garage. There. Needed a book, thought I'd get a quote on a service because my garage is terrible. Not weird at all Castiel- No-_ Cas _. Not weird at all Cas, he won't be freaked out by you at all. Oh fuc_ _k._

 

Cas drops his head in to his hands. He's sitting at his tiny wooden kitchen table. Elbows propped on the sandy coloured grain, eyes pressed in to the heels of his hands, seeing stars burst across his inner vision. He is so completely screwed it's not even true.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive gap in posting!

Cas pulls up out side the garage, stomach raging with nerves. He quietly closes the car door, not wanting to draw attention to himself for some reason. There are a few cars parked out the front, a massive black beast, a huge SUV and a beaten up red pick up.

Sidling up to the open entryway he can hear voices. Raised voices. It can't be. No. It is.

“Shit Lisa! You're dropping this on me now? It's been weeks.”  
“I know Dean. And, I'm sorry. I was sorry the night I left. I know you weren't really seeing anyone. I just- I'm sorry.”  
“Yeah? That's not good enough Lisa. I know we weren't together long, what, a few weeks? A month? But, I thought we had something y'know? And then you go and shit all over it with ridiculous fucking accusations. You didn't even let me explain.”  
“You thought we had something?”  
“Yes! Lisa, fucking yes! But, you ruined it.”  
“We could have it again.”  
“I- What- No-”  
“Dean, we are good together, you can't deny it.”  
“We were. The sex was great. Amazing. But there needs to be more.”  
“More? What are you? Since when did you need more? You work your way through half the women this side of the city and suddenly you want more than a good fuck? Jesus Dean did you leave your manhood back on that film set? Did some pretty actor-man turn your head or something?”  
“Lisa that's not-”  
“What? So it's just me then? Your man-crush on Ironman and Indiana are irrelevant, it's just me you don't want?”  
“Fucking hell Lisa what do you want me to say? Yes? Yes! Yes, it's just you I don't fucking want! Because, you know what? This. This is why. You behave like a fucking child when something comes along that doesn't sit with your view of the world.”  
“How dare you-”  
“You wanted to know. Maybe my Man-crushes will treat me with a little more respect.”  
“Oh so there is a man. I fucking knew you weren't straight.”  
“Oh. Will you just fuck off Lisa? Seriously.”

Castiel is already running down the path back to his car unseen. He'd wanted to stay and help defend Dean against the awful woman. But, common sense kicked in. A man coming to Dean's aid would only have given her fuel. But now what should he do? He can hardly try and push himself on the man, not when he's dealing with a slightly insane ex-girlfriend who wants him for sex. At least he said no… At least he didn't deny having man chrushes…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cas. Still not catching a break. :(


	28. Chapter 28

Castiel has been in a daze most of the day. He's just ambled back in to his office-come-store-room after doing a talk to a bunch of school kids on trench warfare in World War I. He really doesn't enjoy giving the talks, much preferring to immerse himself in the archives and looking after the weaponry and ancient armour. But, he has to admit, that he knows more than anyone in the building on the subjects he covers, and the kids usually seem to be pretty enthralled by the mini lectures he gives them.

For his speech today though, he hadn't been quite on the ball. After his visit to Dean's garage that morning he hadn't really been able to focus. Instead, he found himself drifting off, wondering why Lisa had been so rude and horrible, whether Dean really found Harrison Ford attractive, what would have happened if Lisa hadn't been there, and what on earth he should do now.

He flops himself down in to his dark wooden chair, wheeling back a foot or so with the force of his descent. There are piles of books and documents in manilla folders all over the place, half finished cups of coffee and in this instance, a set of seven bronze arrow heads and a microscope. His office was in stark contrast to the neatness of his home.

It wasn't until he'd poked around in his rucksack under his desk and dropped his unappetising apple and plum on the desk, to re-fuel post children+war+talking, that he noticed the white piece of museum stationary placed on top of all the stained and aged paperwork strewn everywhere.

There in front of him was hand writing he had hoped never to see again, one which he found both fear and nausea inducing. His eyes scan the familiar scrawl, the colour draining from his face.

 

> Dearest Castiel,
> 
> I know you wouldn't have been happy with me if you heard this second hand. But, you do make it difficult to contact you.
> 
> I'm back. I said I would come back didn't I? Well, here I am.
> 
> I'll be in touch, we can start right back where we left off.
> 
> Always yours,  
>  M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you are. I apologise for my stupidly short chapters! 
> 
> I'd love to hear your comments, or just if any of you are reading/enjoying! Ideally enjoying. Obviously. 'Til next time.


	29. Chapter 29

Cas is sprawled out on his pristine sofa in his pristine living room, whiskey bottle in one hand and glass in the other. 

He's not actually drunk, well, not by his standards. His mind keeps going over and over, round and round in circles. First the vile Lisa and her ugly propositioning of Dean along with everything he'd been contemplating all day, then the not-good-letter. The very not good letter. How many times does he have to escape that terrible person? He's sickened and a little disturbed that she came to his work place and left him a letter. His boss must have let her in to the staff areas to write and leave him that. One thing he knew, no matter what this time, there would be no 'starting right back' and there was no 'where we left off.' A one night stand a relationship does not make. And, their history disgusts every part of him.

His phone jangles it's irritating jingle. He really must change that tone.

<< 20:16  
Hey Cas. U ok? Sorry I haven't been in touch. A lot came up this week.

A trickle of excitement runs down his spine. Dean hasn't forgotten him after all, hasn't brushed him off. His worries and fears that Dean had decided he didn't like him are slightly mollified. It's only been a little over a week, he tells himself. And, it's not as if Dean realises that Castiel is all but obsessed with the man, and desperate to actually meet him properly, not surrounded by angry actors or bloodied would-be thieves. He sighs and takes another sip of his amber-gold drink, the burn sitting just a little too long in his throat as he's all but lying down on the sofa. After the letter he found on his desk that afternoon though, he's feeling so highly strung, despite the whiskey. What is he supposed to reply to Dean's question? Is he OK? Well, yes, if he means he's still a 33 year old, moderately successful workaholic, with a beautiful, extremely empty apartment, no friends and next to no family? Then, yeah. He's just spiffy. He rolls his eyes to the white, smooth ceiling, sighing in frustration.

His phone trills and vibrates, making his stomach muscles clench in surprise where he dropped the phone to his belly. 

<< 20:22  
You prob dont wanna, but if u are still up for goin 4 a drink…?

What?

Fucking YES!

Cas sits up, his whiskey sloshing in the glass. Setting his drink down on the glass topped coffee table, he grabs the phone two handed trying to formulate a reply.

>> 20:26  
I do still owe you a beer, right? I can hardly back out now. That'd just be rude.

Shit. Is that too much? Will Dean take it the wrong way? Cas hesitates a few minutes before just thinking 'fuck it' and hitting the send button. His heart is suddenly thrashing in his chest. The hands still clutching the phone are cold and sweaty. 

“Jesus, Cas- tiel. Pull your self together” He mutters out loud, stumbling over the contraction of his name while reaching for another sip of whiskey. 

<< 20:28  
So...is that a yes?

Fuck yes it is!

>> 20:28  
Yes Dean.


	30. Chapter 30

Cas walks in to the bar.

He feels like it's the set up for a bad joke. 

He feel really self conscious, and sick with nerves. He'd called Gabe asking for advice on what to wear. During filming he'd ended up wearing sweat pants and old, worn and stretched t-shirts, mostly with stupid logos for sport centres and gyms on them. When Dean had seen him working security he wore black trousers with a baggy white button up shirt that was always covered with the puffy uniform jacket of the security guards. He'd been wearing the same clothes when he left work the night he was attacked with a tan trench-coat thrown over the top. He'd had to throw the coat and shirt away. The huge rent in the sleeves, soaked with blood kinda made them a little unwearable. At the museum he normally wore one of his ill fitting suits, even if he was just working in the archives. Cas hardly owns any nice clothes. Gabe had informed him, after ribbing him about going on a date (Cas insisted it was just a beer, NOT a date, thank you very much,) that he ought to go smart casual. “Decent jeans and a properly fitting shirt.” Cas had found a pair of jeans which weren't actually ripped and practically threadbare from being worn too many times. Gabe had actually forced him to buy them one day when they'd been shopping for Christmas presents together a few years back. They were low slung, they needed a belt, slim fitting but with enough length to ruck up artfully around his calves. They weren't tight, and sat nicely over his old worn converse that you couldn't separate Castiel from at any cost. They were the deep dark indigo of new denim and went well with the charcoal coloured button down, slim fitting shirt and black skinny tie he had on. His belt, that he thinks had come free with something Gabe had bought, and thrown at him one night, was black leather with a plain, wide, silver clasp.

He had been running late. He'd left the museum late and just hadn't been able to catch himself up except by not bothering to dry his hair after his shower and running out the door the minute he was dressed. He'd only just remembered to throw his keys, wallet and phone in his pockets, forgetting his jacket entirely, before running through the building to the nearest bus stop. His hair was still a slightly damp wild mess. He was meeting Dean at a bar just too far to walk to. He'd never been before, but walking in now he felt completely overdressed. There were men draped over the pool table, lining up the cue, in flannel and acid washed jeans. Some women also wearing flannel, with mini skirts. Actually, pretty much everyone was wearing flannel.

Cas swallows audibly.

“Hey there, what can I getcha?”  
“Oh. Hi. Er, what beer do you have?”

The slightly scary looking lady (flannel) behind the bar gives him an appraising look before reeling off a list of a few generic brews and a whole load of nano-brewed beers. Castiel's opinion of the place raises instantly. He picks one he knows he likes, all bitterness and pine. He's ended up being early after his rush across town. Instead of looking about the bar and jumping every time he hears the door swing open, he concentrates on savouring his beer. It's good. Scary flannel lady runs a tight ship if the beer is anything to go by.

It doesn't take long until he senses a presence behind him. Castiel turns, a shy smile forming on his lips.

His smile drops instantly, leaving a sick twisting in his gut. Standing before him is a petite brunette, with a wide, heart shaped face and a self satisfied smirk plastered across her features.

“Hey handsome, fancy seeing you here.”  
“Meg.”


	31. Chapter 31

“What do you want Meg?”  
“Aww, aren't you happy to see me?”  
Castiel snorts. “Of course I'm not.”  
“But, you're my angel Castiel. My saviour.”  
“What. Do. You. Want?” Castiel repeats, emphasising each word heavily. He wants the horrific abomination in front of him gone so that he can buy Dean a beer

Meg shoots him a calculating glance, eyes narrowed, hand on hip. “Well, since you ask so nicely. I was hoping you'd buy me a beer. We should talk.” Castiel's entire body tenses up. Nausea swirling in his stomach, his palms are sweating, his eye starting to twitch. He feels the first inklings of true fear stir in him. He feels a presence behind him, and the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He hadn't expected her to be on the prowl alone. Meg's eyes track the person moving silently around Castiel.

“I do not wish to either buy you a beer or talk to you ever again Meg.” He states in a quiet voice.

She suddenly looks slightly angry and a little worried, not an expression he'd seen on her features before. He can still feel someone standing close behind him. She takes a breath as if to speak, an angry spark in her eyes.

“Look sweetheart, I think it's fairly obvious that he wants nothing to do with you. Why don't you let him enjoy his date huh?”

Castiel doesn't spin around in shock and awe at who it was who had crept up behind him. Dean. You can't spin around when Meg is there. First rule of defence, protect your flanks.

A wicked, evil, series of emotions pass across her open, honest looking face. All she does in response is smirk a little and wink before strolling out of the room. She hesitates at the door to fix Castiel with her cruel gaze before exiting the building. Castiel shivers.

“soooo....” Dean awkwardly says.

Castiel finally turns around to look at The Beautiful Man, The Beautiful Man who had said they were on a date. That and pretty much that alone as a statement was the only thing that would have been able to drive the fear, revulsion, nausea and anxiety that Meg's visitation had conjured. Just as well he'd stated it really. Cas wouldn't have been able to continue the date other wise. Instead he was now filled with a nervous warmth and he felt a shy smile flit quickly across his face.

“Thanks for the rescue Dean.”  
“My pleasure.” Dean states with a half smile and burning curiosity behind his eyes.  
Castiel doesn't feel as if explaining Meg to Dean on their first proper meeting- date-. It wouldn't be a good idea.  
“Uh, can I get you a beer?” Dean simply nods and gives the, now curious, bartender a nod.  
“Ellen, one of what ever is new and awesome for me, and Cas, do you want anything?” Dean asks looking at Cas' half empty glass.  
Cas' stomach roils again thinking of Meg's proximity earlier. “It's probably warm by now, I'll have what ever Dean's having please. Please put them on my tab.”

The scary plaid clad woman just nods, and sets down two amazing smelling beers in front of them both.

“sooo...” Dean repeats, with a new sparkle in his eye which Castiel doesn't miss.

“I would just like to apologise properly, Dean, for ruining your last relationship, by proxy, in a public setting. Without my failure to write down whos phone number belonged to whom, you may, even now, have been in a fulfilling and happy relationship with the slightly crazy, shouting lady.” Castiel keeps a straight face, even managing to look contrite and sorry for his misdeeds. He raises his bottle in apologetic toast to Dean.

Dean lets out a completely unrestrained snort and laugh before controlling himself and mournfully clinking his beer with Cas'.

“I whole heartedly accept your apology. Thank you Castiel.”  
Cas grins, then falters. “Sorry about, you know, earlier too.”  
“What? She a crazy ex or something?”  
“Something like that.” Cas nods. “But, I'd rather not talk about her. What about, uh, well, Sam mentioned you're an expert on vintage cars? Does my Lincoln count?”  
Dean laughs and starts chatting easily, leaning his back against the bar, beer bottle in hand, occasionally glancing at his feet as if shy, but more and more fixing his gaze on Cas, leaning on one elbow on the bar facing him.


	32. Chapter 32

They move from talking about their respective cars, Baby and Cas' unnamed 'pimp-mobile', according to Dean. Cas takes the opportunity to laugh at Dean's choice of cassette tapes over CD's or iPod. Cas admits to relying on listening to music in the bath when he needs to relax, Dean mocks him for being so old. Dean questions what sort of music Cas likes, and he goes off on one about his soft spot for the psychedelic rock he used to listen to while studying. Cas wonders if Dean went to school at all. He went to a Tech college to learn engineering, but dropped out to work. Dean talks about being a mechanic and about getting in to classic cars. He mentions that he's building himself a reputation for rebuilding and repairing vintage models. Cas sniggers. Dean rolls his eyes. Dean wants to know what Cas does other than annoying closeted actors. Cas describes his work in the museum. Dean wants to know if the museum has dinosaurs. Cas laughs at him, calling him a child. A stray thought of Cas' gets voiced without his say so; “Do you like kids?” Dean looks at him strangely, than answers in the affirmative. They start talking about family. Dean talks about Sam and how proud he is, Cas talks about Gabriel, and how embarrassed he usually is. Cas offers information about his absent father, Dean shoots him a sympathetic glance and counters that his dad died a few years back from a stroke. Cas says how sorry he is. Dean shrugs. Dean's mum on the other hand is awesome. Cas laughs at Dean boyish happiness and pride. Cas negates to mention anything about his mum. Dean supplies that Mary makes the best pie. He loves pie. Cas loves honey. Dean pulls a face and mentions that he loves pie. Cas tells him off for talking about pie again; “I get it, you love pie Dean. I understand.” Cas laments that he isn't any good at making pie. Dean looks sad and states that “This is over.” And goes to march out the door. Cas laughs loudly for the first time that night and drags Dean back to the bar. Dean talks about his favourite films, Cas counters with his favourite books. Dean asks what his favourite weapon is, looking like an excited kid. “Swords. All kinds.” They talk about war briefly, the mood mellowing a little. Dean brings up Meg. She does seem to follow the topic of warfare nicely.

Cas isn't sure he can deal with talking about Meg now better than he could earlier in the night. “Meg, well, she's not exactly pleasant. I'd rather not talk about her tonight Dean, if that's OK?” Dean looks at him carefully, but lets it rest.

“My ex-, er, Lisa, well, you saw her and what she's like.” Cas snorts a little. “I have an admission to make.” Dean looks a little worried. “I may have gone to see you at your garage when I didn't hear from you.” Oh, this was a bad idea. He shouldn't be telling Dean what a weird creep he is! “I, um, heard you and Lisa having an argument.” Dean doesn't look angry. “Huh. Well, she's a bitch. How come you didn't say 'hi'?” Castiel huffs out a shallow laugh. “I didn't really want to be caught up in that. I sort of ran away. Plus I thought you'd think I was a bit-” Dean raises an eyebrow at him, giving no help. Cas sighs. “A bit stalkery.” Dean just smiles. “Nah.”

“So, how come you took so long letting me know who you were when we were texting, once you worked out who I was?” Cas' entire body seems to lock rigid. He'd really hoped he'd never, ever, ever, have to talk to Dean about the whole “The Beautiful Man” thing.   
“Well, uh, I might have had a bit of a crush on you. Kind of, for a while? And, when I realised who I was texting, I knew you didn't even have a clue who I was. And you were, are, The Beautiful Man and- Oh. Fuck.” Cas doesn't blush much. Rarely. Only on occasions when he wants Satan himself, in all his flaming, writhing, rotting, snarling beauty, to leap up through the floor and swallow him down his gullet, never to be seen again.

Dean raises an amused eyebrow. “Ya, know. You said something about a beautiful man before. When you were high on attack-adrenalin.”

Castiel wants to throw up. “Uh-” Smooth.

Dean simply raises his other eyebrow in question, not letting Castiel off the hook. “Fine. I didn't know you or anything about you other than your Saturday night habits. I knew Sam was your brother, from something you'd said, but that's it. So, I named you The Beautiful Man. Because, you know, it seemed kind of fitting.” He knew his cheeks were quite literally on fire. Com'on Satan, hurry it up.

Dean just laughs out loud, not unkindly. His entire body flexing with his mirth. “Well, gee. Ain't that flatterin'” He giggles, wiping a tear from his face. Cas is utterly mortified.

“Seriously that's hilarious, and stupidly awesome. Thanks man.” He throws a wink at Cas. Cas may or may not have been made of marble, granite, no, diamond, by this point. He could feel his mouth was open. He might have stopped breathing. Dean just pushes a fresh bottle of beer across the bar until it nudges his hand and effectively snaps him out of his shock.

“Y- You don't mind?” Dean snorts. “Mind? Why would I mind that you thought I was good lookin' enough to name me that?” Dean has been watching his feet closely through out this last exchange, but now he flicks his eyes up to meet Cas' shyly. “You- uh- You were Hot Security Guy.”

Castiel thinks he may have swallowed his tongue. All he can do for a few minuets is blink then make a surprisingly high-pitched 'huh' noise. “It, er, doesn't roll off the tongue quite so easily as 'The Beautiful Man', but, yeah.” Dean finishes lamely cheeks flushed, eyes glued to his boots again.

Castiel still can't speak, so he downs his new beer in one shot. Dean looks up at that, a swift impressed look washing across his features. “Another?” Cas asks Dean, indicating his empty beer, sporting a similar expression he'd carried after knifing his would-be attackers outside Edlund & Adler.

-

“Come on Cas, Let's get you home.” Cas Sighs. He's had an amazing night. It may not have been the most thrilling, nor the most exciting, but he'd actually had a full and interesting conversation with the man he's been pining after, and found that he isn't just a pretty face. Cas likes him for who he is. For his laughter and his smile, for his boyish obsession with pie, for his dedication to his family, for his honesty, for his hopes and fears, for his interest in Cas, for his self effacing nature, for his Dean-ness. He feels like he's floating.

Standing out in the parking lot with the cab Dean had called idling behind him, Cas smiles at Dean one last time before getting in the car. No matter what Dean had said, it was more a meeting, a dry run, than a proper date. Or maybe everything a blind date usually was, apart from the blind part. They'd just talked and got on, found out who the other person was beyond pretty eyes and broad shoulders, and it had been wonderful. Cas reaches out behind him, fumbling for the door handle, not taking his eyes from Dean's face, drinking him in. He didn't want the evening to end, not now he'd finally, finally, spent time with his Beautiful Man. Dean wasn't taking his eyes from Cas' either. Moss green gaze locked to ocean blue, he leaned in. Cas' eyes widen in surprise, he can't help it, he's too overjoyed to question the moment. Dean looks faintly terrified but Cas notices a tiny smile touching his lips. Cas could feel his shaky exhale brush against his lips from only inches away. Cas can't move. He wants Dean to want this, Dean has to make the move, not him. He wants Dean too much to kiss him first.

Cas feels like he's been standing there in the chill evening, a cab rumbling patiently behind him for centuries before Dean's eyes eventually flutter closed. He watches him as he takes a shallow breath in and leans in those last few inches. Cas, almost certain the vision will disappear when he closes his eyes, none the less does so. In the darkness behind his eyelids he suddenly sees geometric stars burst across his vision in blues and pinks and whites as Dean's lips at long last brush against his. 

Dean's chastely closed, smooth, soft lips press lightly against Cas' full dry ones, sweet smiles gracing both their faces.

Dean exhales finally as he pulls back, his eyes wide in awe. Cas just smiles, tiny at first, only showing in his eyes, then his mouth hitches up, then he can't help but grin toothily in to the other man's face. 

Dean kissed him.


	33. Chapter 33

“Castiel's phone...”  
“Oh. Um. Is Cas there?”  
“Nope!”  
“Uh..”  
“Smooth Deano.”  
“What? Who is this?”  
“Oh. No, Deano, that's not how the game works.”  
“Um. I'm going to call Cas back later.”  
“He's taking a piss. What can I do for ya?”  
“You? Nothing I suspect.”  
“Nuh huh. That's where you're wrong.”  
“I'm just going to call back later.”

-

“How rude. He hung up on me.” Gabriel muses out loud.  
“Who hung up on you?” Shit.  
“No one?”  
“Gabe, your 'innocent' face is worse that mine. What have you done?”  
Gabriel slumps against Cas' white kitchen work top. “Your stupid boyfriend-” That's as far as Gabe gets before he's cut off by Cas' yelp.  
“Dean called! And you picked up? Gabe! Jesus. Give me my phone.”  
Gabriel, never one to miss an opportunity dances away, holing the phone high above his head. “Gabe I think you've forgotten who your brother is again.”  
Castiel executes a move so quickly that Gabe can't actually follow it before he's on the floor on his back, arms pinned and the phone neatly in Cas' free hand. Cas is smirking. Gabe scowls.  
“You're no fun any more.”  
Cas sticks out his tongue.

-

“Cas?”  
“Yes, it's me. Sorry, I was in the bathroom and my brother thought it would be hilarious to talk to you.”  
“Your brother? Thank God!”  
“What's God got to do with it?”  
“I, uh- Never mind. I wondered if you were free Friday night?”  
“Yes. Wait. No. I mean yes. I will be.”  
Dean laughs openly, freely and joyously down the phone.  
“How about you let me know tomorrow and I'll arrange something then huh?”  
“Yes, Dean. I can do that.” Cas replies grinning widely from ear to ear.  
“Awesome, speak to you tomorrow then man.”  
“Bye Dean.”

-

“He's not my boyfriend Gabe!”  
“Whatever. Never seen you smile that much after a three minute phone call before. He may as well be. Are you in love? Wait! Did he phone sex at you?”  
“Can you even be phone sexed at?”  
“You can now.”  
“Shut up Gabe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Not abandoned, just been working on something else recently! Not sure if you're all liking/hating this but I'll soldier on regardless. Things will be taking a turn soon for Cas and Dean...


	34. Chapter 34

Cas leans heavily against the cold red brick wall. He can hear his own breathing rattling in his chest. It's ragged and hoarse. His vision is off. Blurring one minute then a tunnel of black the next. He isn't sure if he passes out a few more times or not. He has no concept of time. It's still dark though, that much he knows, but it's eerily quiet, so it must be late, past 2am when the bar he was in kicked out for the night. 

He feels like he's coming back to himself bit by bit. The events that led to him sitting in an alley behind a bar, probably concussed, and going by the horrible sticky, taught feeling across much of his skin, covered in blood too, are pretty unclear. His head aches. A lot. He needs to piece together how he got from leaving his home, and why, to how he got attacked by five huge men in an alley. 

He remembers leaving his pristine home and walking to the bar in the fresh evening air. He'd been early but had wanted to walk off his nerves. That hadn't worked, but it had been a nice night. He was excited. Oh-

Cas- No, Castiel feels his heart buckle anew as he remembers sitting in the bar for two hours past the time Dean had asked to meet him. He'd nursed one drink the entire time, slowly sipping the beer as it warmed up in his hands. He'd checked his phone often. Dean had not sent a text or called him. He'd been stood up. As ten thirty rolled around he'd decided to go home and be miserable in his own home; clean, white, and free from the stink of unwashed bodies and plaid. Plaid everywhere. 

He had slipped off his stool, turned to the door way, and come face to face with Meg.

A sharp pain stabs through his eyes. Wincing, he gingerly reaches his arm up, which seems to be subject to more gravity and less coordination than usual, and touches his forehead. The touch forces a loud groan to rip through him at the agony coursing through his skull. That, in turn, causes a coughing fit, alerting him to the fact that he had most probably been recently strangled. The coughing sets off a whole new level of pain through his ribcage. This time, he silently groans. How was he to get home? He could hardly breathe while leaning against a wall. Even thinking was hard work.

There seemed to be a black spot in his memory and he frowns trying to remember what Meg had talked to him about. The frowning was a mistake. He couldn't remember, and now his head hurt even more. 

Castiel hummed tunelessly in his head, trying to fast forward through the blank patch. Some how she'd got him outside. Then three men had come swiftly from behind him. He remembers now hearing them arrive while he and Meg had been talking stiltedly. He'd gone on guard. Without weaponry, generally frowned upon to take such things out in public, he'd had no chance against so many thugs. Meg had danced out of the way and he'd been grabbed by someone a good six-inches taller than himself, who had seemed to be made out of marble, and was perhaps twice as broad. Castiel was fit, yes. He was strong too. But a weight lifter? A boxer? Nope. The first held him and span him around, the second two moved with surprising speed to stand with the first behind him while a fourth and fifth man, both of equal size to the first three, appeared in front of him.

“Tell me.” “No.” He could remember that exchange clearly enough, but why?

They'd gone to town. Five huge men against one, albeit trained fighter. But he was held fast, and they were vicious. Punches to his gut began it, they'd winded him. That had essentially put any struggling he could have done to bed. None the less, he strained against the man holding him. He remembers getting an arm free. Being much smaller than the other men he had been able to turn in his grip and thrust his knee toward the man griping him. Castiel doesn't think it connected. He had bitten the man on the neck. 

“Tell me.” “No.” 

Castiel spits next to him on the soiled floor, tasting blood in his mouth all over again. His bile rises.

He'd been dropped after that. The kicking had started then. Hard kicks to his stomach, chest, someone had stamped on his back more than once, and he'd taken at least one to the head. He can remember the smell of shit and leather from their steel toe capped boots. 

“Tell me.” “No.” 

One had hauled him up. He had still been conscious. He'd felt blood dripping down his face, from his ear, eyebrow, nose, lip. The giant had gripped one hand around his neck, God knows how his grip had been big or strong enough, but it had, and it had stolen what air Castiel was able to snatch against the agony of bruised or broken ribs. 

Meg had swam back in to his vision. She had said something, but by then his ears were ringing and he couldn't hear her anyway. He can remember the weird high pitched bell like noise cutting through silence. He answered anyway. “No.” 

Castiel shakes his head gently. He can hear the rustling of his jacket against the wall, a muted yell from the streets. He realises he can hear, so it must have been a temporary effect of getting kicked in the head. 

Meg had spat in his face, and then the enormous man had dropped him, and everything had disappeared. That was until he woke up wondering who the fuck he was, why and what the hell he hurt so much for. Castiel looks up at the sky without moving his head. Still pitch black up there. Not too late to get home with out having to explain to anyone why he looks like a man caught up in a war zone.

Castiel looks at his feet willing them to move up under his hips so that he can push himself up right using the wall for support. He knows he ought to go to hospital, really. Shouldn't he? Maybe he could just call an ambulance. He thinks longingly of his white flat. Of clean sheets, of a hot shower with white tiles and gold fittings. That's when his nose wakes up around the swelling. Shit. That's why the men's boots had smelled of shit. The alley was clearly a hot spot of local felines and dog walkers. Hopefully it was just animal. He is not- not- taking this stench in to his beloved home. Ambulance it is.


	35. Chapter 35

“Sir? Sir!”  
Castiel starts awake again. “What?”  
“Are you OK Sir? Can you hear me?”  
He stares up at the concerned face surrounded by a paramedics uniform. “Of course I can hear you, I'm injured, not an idiot.”  
“OK Sir. We just need to get a look at you.”

-

Castiel awakes to clean sheets, the light of early dawn and the smell of antiseptic. And no pain. He thinks he might just be in heaven.

That is until he remembers the previous night. All of it.

_“Hello sweetheart.”  
“Meg.”_


	36. Chapter 36

_“Hello sweetheart.”_  


_“Meg.”_

_“I'm just going to cut to the chase here Castiel. You clearly seem to have taken our last...adventure together to heart, and you don't seem interested in letting me wine and dine you again, and you managed to incapacitate my men outside the Edlund & Adler building. Good job on that by the way. So how about you just give me the key and the combination and I'll leave you alone.”_

_Castiel didn't know how to react. The three men outside Sam's building were Meg's? That explained a lot. He felt as if he almost knew this was coming really, but why did the psychopath want him, his weapons? Leaving collector item weapons as a signature to your murders wasn't subtle and certainly wasn't good for the collector himself._

_“Meg, I am never letting you in the same building as my weapons room again, let alone giving you access to them.”_

_“Are you sure? It's not as if you can go to the police now is it? They'll think you had something to do with things last time. I hear those drugs tests they carried out on you can be refuted you know.” Her face lifted in an evil grin, eyes twinkling._

_Castiel shuddered at the memory of the drug infused haze she had inflicted upon him before rifling through his old apartment for the keys to the locked room full of his private collection of ancient weaponry. He remained silent. She was right after all. He had testified that he hadn't seen her leave or return that evening after their date, and he had only been cleared because of the huge dose of Rohypnol in his system, proving he would have been unconscious the whole time. Meg had disappeared. His weapons room was open, and the murder weapon, a nasty serrated blade, was missing from it's spot on the wall, buried to the hilt in some debt ridden, drug addicted, play boy, millionaire. They suspected Meg because of her known contacts with drug baron 'Azazel,' but without testimony from Castiel, which he was unable to give, there wasn't enough proof to convict. She walked free; they both did. One call to the police saying Meg was in town and threatening him? He wanted to avoid the attention as much as possible._

_“Give me key and combination Castiel!” Meg hissed, eyes wide and furious._

_“No.”_

_“I can roofie you again if you like?” She asked with a suggestive eyebrow raised._

_“No.” He looked up and around him. Somehow they had edged out of the building, they were standing in the back alley, the fire escape banging locked behind them._

_“I will find out.” Meg stated again. “I can make you tell me.”_

_Castiel laughed. “No.”_

_She rested her hands on her hips glaring up at his face, frowning ever so slightly. “Fine.” She looked past Castiel. “Boys?”_


	37. Chapter 37

“Y'lo”  
“Gabe?”  
“Castiel. What's wrong?”  
“Why do you think something's wrong?”   
“Firstly you never call me, I always call you. Secondly you sound like shit. Thirdly you're calling from a withheld number, usually police or hospital going from your history. Fourthly you deflected rather than telling me that nothing was wrong. Now; spill.”

-

Gabe helped Castiel shuffle to the front door of his home, arms wrapped about his ribs. The door was standing wide open.

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

His beautiful white apartment was ruined. 

Every surface was strewn with detritus, drawers were emptied, his clothes had been pulled from their hangers and pockets ripped apart. His beloved white sofa had been slashed open, the cushion filling covering the floor. There were muddy, shit covered foot print criss crossing the white carpet. Someone had relieved themselves across his spartan bathroom. His bed was stripped and slashed like the sofa. His glass coffee table had somehow survived, but the meticulously kept notes for his most recent book were strewn carelessly across the space, mixed with every other piece of paper in the place. His kitchen cupboards were emptied across the room and the muddy foot prints were on the counter top, proving they'd looked on top of the cabinets too. 

The door to his weapons room had stayed resolutely shut. Although the holes in the plaster work, directly through to the brick wall, and the smashed wood on and around the door jam was evidence that they had tried to gain entrance despite the lack of key and combination. The electronic system was pulled from the door and the lock plate looked scratched. Castiel's laptop was broken in half, screen smashed, at the foot of the wall. 

Castiel sighs. The unmentionable amount of money he had spent reinforcing his weapon's room and laptop against unwanted entrance seems to have been well worth it.

But, his home, his haven, was lost.


	38. Chapter 38

“You called the police.” Castiel states in a dead monotone.

“Of course I fucking called the police!” Gabriel explodes. “You were in hospital after being beaten six ways from Sunday, and your home has been broken into and ransacked. It is clearly obvious the people who did this were trying to get in to the weapons room. You will not be held accountable. If anything it will shed more light on Meg's involvement last time!” 

They're sitting in a café down the street, having been forcibly ejected from his home by the police wishing to collate and collect evidence.

Castiel sighs deeply. Gabe is right, this time. His fear of being implicated in a murder he didn't commit had clouded his judgement. That and his broken body and broken heart.

“Dean stood me up. Before Meg and her cronies beat me up...”

Gabriel's eyes went round. “I'm so sorry Cassie.” He looked genuinely contrite for the first time in his life.

Castiel just wanted to return to his apartment, let Gabe help him clean it as best they could. He wanted to resolutely forget Dean's number that he may or may not have memorised. Ring the insurance company. Call work and take a week off to recover from his injuries. Luckily nothing had been broken. Bruised ribs and trachea, mottled black bruising all over his sides and back. His head had needed a few stitches, two black eyes, and he had mild concussion. He just wants to hide in his beautiful apartment, that isn't beautiful any longer, and mourn the loss of The Beautiful Man from his life.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has some slightly whimsical art! [Go here...](https://anonymousantonym.wordpress.com/all-good-things/all-good-things-chapter-39/)

Castiel's swollen eyes absently track the trimmed edge of his new white sofa while his bare feet rest on the scrubbed coffee table. The room smells of new paint and the sickly scent of cleaning products. He is doing his best to avoid thinking. About anything. Anything at all thank you very much.

His phone tinkles with a new and similarly annoying jingle as the old one. Gabriel obviously got his hands on it again.

“Fuck.” He growls out to the empty room before answering it.

“Hey Castiel! How are you?”  
Castiel just grunts in response, his eyes now closed.  
“...”  
“What Sera?” He demands. So not in the mood for his ever chirpy agent.  
“Is that anyway to talk to the person bringing you tidings of good news?  
“Do you have work for me?”  
“Yes-” She takes a breath to finish the sentence but Castiel cuts across her.  
“Just email me the details. Please.” He sighs as he hears a knock on his door.  
“There might be a teeny bit of bad news too.” He rolls off the sofa carefully, doing his best to avoid putting any pressure on his body from the hips up.  
“Of course there is. It does appear to be my life after all. Sadly.” He drags himself toward his front door, all lethargy and misery.  
“I might have been fan-boy'd in to giving out your address to someone.” She says all on one breath as he pulls down on the handle to open the front door.  
“WHAT?!” He shouts to Sera as he comes face to face with an extremely contrite looking Dean Winchester.  
“I will deal with you later.” He seethes down the phone to Sera Siege then stamps his thumb against the phone screen and hangs up.

“Hey Cas.”  
Castiel can't even summon words.  
“Um. My brother might have convinced your agent to give out your address.”  
Castiel just glares at The Beautiful, very worried, clearly sad, Man in front of him.  
“Uh, I'm really sorry man. Can we at least talk? For five minutes? That's all I ask.”  
Castiel sighs, still unable to form real thoughts let alone speech. He turns and limps away from Dean, leaving the door open behind him. 

Then thinking happens. 

He turns around and; “If you're coming in, take off your shoes. I can't be bothered to be angry at you for ruining my carpets too.”


	40. Chapter 40

Dean's voice sounded behind him, muffled, as he bent to drag off his boots. “Are you- er. What happened to your face?” There was a pause as Castiel continued to shuffle and limp back in to the lounge. “And the rest of you?” His voice full of concern and worry.

Castiel sighs, in too much pain, physical and of the heart, to engage in small talk. “Why are you here Dean?” As he enters his newly white lounge he turns to face the man who stood him up mere hours before he was beaten to a pulp.

He finally finds the strength to cast his eyes over the man before him. Dean looks sad. So very very sad. “Well, you could let me know who went to town on you, but, er, I also wanted to apologise. For Friday. Something kinda happened, and I really couldn't- well, no, I could have let you know what was going on, but I wasn't in a good place just then. I didn't wanna- I- I dunno. I'm so sorry Cas. That's not me. It's all this shit and-” Dean's voice was escalating in pitch, hurt saturating his voice.

“Dean?” Castiel cuts across the rambling, guilt stricken man in front of him.  
“Yeah?” Dean face is like a small child's who knows he's done wrong, but so desperately wants to make it better. But there was something else there too. Fear maybe? Or dread?

Castiel sighs. He may not know what happened, but the mere fact that Dean was here at least put to rest that side of his tumultuous feelings of the past few days. If he hadn't just been given concussion and severely bruised ribs and more, he might have been more angry. Refused to listen. But, as it was, he was too tired. In too much pain. 

Dean was starting to look more worried by his silence. He didn't want to ask Dean what had happened to him though, despite burning with curiosity. So, he decided to answer Dean's earlier question, as well as he could anyway. 

“I was, er, beaten up. Um. Mugged?” Castiel supposes it's true, in a way. “There were five of them. They sort of had the upper hand.” 

Dean looks even more worried, he even starts forward, but he arrests the movement, uncertainty all over his face. “Are you...okay?” He asks hesitantly.

“I'm fine. Bruises and concussion are the worst of it. The strangulation wasn't a walk in the park either though I suppose.” He attempts a smile in Dean's direction. The man just looks appalled.  
Castiel shrugs off his devastated expression. “I'll be fine.”

Dean seems to take the hint that Castiel doesn't want to talk about it any more, and that it's his turn now. Castiel can see him working up to telling him what happened. He swallows rapidly, clenches his hands, rubs them against his thighs. He's nervous, Castiel suddenly realises. And not happy.

“I, um, got a phone call from Lisa” Dean finally spits out. Castiel's stomach drops.

“She, er, she told me she's pregnant.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sort of sorry for this chapter...
> 
> On another note I only have two or three more chapters to write! (there's a lot more than that for you to read.)
> 
> Also, I apparently now have a [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anonymousantonym). I honestly have no idea how to use this, or what to do with it. So feel free to follow me in order to mock me maybe.

Castiel's heart clenches and then it stops. It's over. This stupid fascination with The Beautiful Man in front of him. It's done. He's going to go and be a Dad. A good Dad, if his judgement is correct. But, he's hardly going to have time to spend trying to get to know an awkward, broken, boring man like himself. Especially not one who has enough angst in his past for the two of them put together.

“C- congratulations Dean.” Dean's face crumples, but he doesn't cry. He looks heart broken. Castiel can just imagine what's going through his head. 'Why now, why Lisa, why a crazy ex, can I afford this, do I want this, will I be a good Dad, what will I miss out on, I'm not ready, I'm excited, I'm terrified, I'm sorry.' 

Cas' inner monologue in Dean's voice comes to an abrupt halt. “I'm so sorry Cas. I have to- I have to try and make this work. I'm not going to be with her, but I have to come to an understanding with her. I wanted to- I'm so sorry.” He hangs his head. Eyes glittering with un-shed tears.

Cas gets up. “It's okay Dean. I- I'm certain you'll make a great father.” No! That's not what he wants to say! He wants to tell him that they could still try, they could still go out on another date. He's not ready to give up on this, on the man he adores, the man who's singular kiss they've shared has haunted him like no other. He doesn't want to let this gorgeous, clever, smart, funny, beloved man go. Yes, beloved. He fucking loves him. One fucking date and he fell for him, he may have only just realised, but now that he has, he knows he loves this man. This man who is going to go and have to bring up a child with a woman he doesn't like, and leave behind a man who loves everything that he is. 

Cas rests his hand on Dean's forearm, tears glistening in his own eyes. “Go, Dean. Go be a good Dad, and a good man. I know you will be.”

Dean just looks at him, and Cas thinks that just maybe, in the depths of those green eyes, he just saw Dean's heart break.


	42. Chapter 42

Castiel stabs the 'submit' button on the website, booking his flights for his next movie consultation. He had told Sera that for giving Sam his address he expected double the number of consultation jobs coming his way. She had laughed at him until his silence had convinced her that he was serious. He wasn't especially serious about that in reality, but since Dean's visit a few days previously he hadn't been able to shake his foul mood, or the exhausted numbness as they took it in turns to colour his world.

Exhaling deeply Castiel rubs his hand over his still sore face. He starts work again at the museum the next morning, and he is still yet to finish reorganising all of his strewn notes for his book. He is getting behind on that front what with the consultations, museum work, pining after Dean, getting beaten up and pining after Dean some more. Those kind of things tend to ruin your schedule a little.

Castiel has felt grey and tired since Dean's visit. He thinks maybe be should be more perturbed by Meg's persistence, or still more her presence, but losing something before he even had a real chance at it, losing someone that he truly thought he may have had a connection with- 

Amongst his bouts of apathy followed closely by crankiness and pain, he repeatedly curses that he ever waited when it came to Dean. If he had just grown a pair and asked him out on day one none of this crap would have happened, he thinks to himself morosely.

He sighs and switches the screen over to his work document, poking the 'D' key absently, thinking of what ought to come next. Something about the perception of berserker rage in India. But, his brain supplies, Meg would probably have still come after him, and if he had asked Dean out, and he had said yes, then maybe he would be mixed up with her insanity too. She might have tried to use Dean against him. He slumps down further against his too-new sofa cushions. 

After two of three deep even breaths he finds his mind mercifully blank for a moment.

He can hear his breath entering and leaving his chest, see the rise and fall of his ribcage in the periphery of his vision. He can smell new fabric and paint. He can feel the soft pressure of the keyboard against his finger tips. He sits. And, he stares. And, he just doesn't know how to proceed from this. 

He realises that he has been staring blankly at his computer screen when his eyes tear up with the stinging pain of not blinking often enough. He notes the long line of D's filling up half a page and he curses, hitting backspace. A rough knock at the door jerks him back to himself. He rubs at his eyes and stares balefully at the door.

“Cassie m'boy! Lemme in!”

Castiel rolls his stinging eyes to the ceiling. “I'm not getting up Gabe.” He yells at the door.

The void outside of his front door goes suspiciously silent. 

Until, that is, a slight scrabbling noise followed by Gabriel swinging the door open, crouched down, eyes looking guilty and hands at lock level, a hair grip and paper-clip held delicately between his fingers. Castiel rolls his eyes again.

“So much for your security lil' bro.” Castiel thinks his eyes may roll out of his skull due to his older brother's antics.

“The security was for the arsenal I keep in the house, not the house it's self, Gabriel.” Gabe just twists an eyebrow in response before leaping to his feat and slamming the door shut behind himself.

“How ya doin' kiddo?”

'Grey. Grey is how I am doing' Castiel thinks, taking another deep breath before answering his brother out loud.

“I… am… tired, Gabe.” He gets out, stiltedly, trying to think of how he really feels.

Half an hour later, both he and his brother are nursing his new whiskey glasses, filled with the amber liquid that Gabe had brought with him. His last bottle had been smashed by Meg and her cronies.

“I get why you did what you did, bro, I do. But why couldn't you have asked to see him again huh? Why not be uncle Cassie?”

Castiel isn't sure, but he knows that his decision was right. “I don't know Gabe. He is going to be a new Dad, with a woman he thinks is a bitch, and she is, by the way. He's got to try and bring up a child and will be tied to this horrible woman for the rest of his life. He has to try and make good decisions and potentially fight against her bad ones the whole time. The last thing he needs is to try and date someone new. Especially someone as useless as me, Gabe. I hardly know what he might have seen in me before all this happened, but now? He is not going to want to introduce me to his brand new baby and hope that I'll just happen to be a good “uncle”.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if _I_ like this chapter to be honest. Although it isn't meant to be especially joyous. Hope you're all enjoying the story nonetheless. I might be tempted to update again this week to make up for it!


	43. Chapter 43

“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck.” Castiel whispers under his breath in the quiet of the main room as the delicate Heian period dagger he was trying to position in the glass case slipped in his bulky cotton gloved hands.

It was his first day back in the museum since the incident in the alley behind the bar where Dean had stood him up whilst he discovered he was to become a father with his unpleasant ex-girlfriend.

Castiel sighs deeply. Today was not going great. He had lost his footing in the shower that morning, and while he hadn't fallen, his lunge to steady himself had hurt his still extremely painful ribs. He had burnt his tongue on his slightly burnt coffee. His face was still swollen and blackened, and it had felt as if every person on his route to work had either shot him a look of incredulity or pity. Then, his boss at the museum had, instead of giving him boring paperwork to do as he had hoped, had sent him to swap out the display in the Japanese exhibit. 

As he slowly, gently repositions the dagger in to its padded plastic prop he becomes aware of whispering and the shuffling of feet in the large room. It's a Monday, not the museums busiest time. He had hoped to get the display finished before the public filtered in. 

He completely ignores the people, a couple he thinks, in favour of concentrating on his task. Yet, their conversation filters through in fits and starts, just snatches of speech.

“...completely floored...”  
“...never seen...devastated...”  
“...is it the thing about the...or that the...seeing...him...”  
“...don't know...won't talk to me...”  
“...was he even...”  
“...I think...” Then louder. “Shit! Cas? Uh, Mr. Novak?”

Castiel looks up, then up more from his position on the floor by the open door of the case, in to the surprised face of Sam Winchester, and a pretty blonde.

He feels his eyes go wide as he realises that he has been eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“I- er- Sam?”  
“Shit, what happened to your face?”  
“Oh. Long story.” He winces at the pain in his ribs as he gets up off the floor and sticks out his hand for Sam to shake.  
“This is Jessica, my girlfriend.” Castiel shakes her hand too with a mumbled 'nice to meet you.'  
“So...er- How is the movie thing working out?”  
“Fine. Thank you. I have another consult job coming up in a few weeks actually.”  
“Wow, that's awesome man!” Sam seemed too jovial. His grin too wide for something so simple as Castiel having a job. 

He is saved having to construct a sentence in response by two heavy pairs of footsteps stomping across the echoing chamber toward him. He peers around Sam's bulk to take in the people, moving with a purpose where most would saunter and amble. 

“Mr. Novak?” The confident voice calls out. “It's been a while. It seems you keep getting in to trouble.”  
“Trouble keeps finding me.” He murmurs, too quietly for any one to catch. 

Sam looks behind him and upon seeing the well dressed detective marching across the stone floor, straightens and offers a concerned glance toward Castiel. 

He takes in the quick glance that Henriksen sends Sam, vague recognition, which Sam returns before the lawyer speaks again. “We better go. It was nice bumping in to you C- Mr. Novak.”

Castiel just nods, a little bewildered. Before they're out of ear shot though, and over the thump of Henriksen's boots he can hear a final cut off whisper from Jessica. “Is that Dean's...”

“Mr. Novak.” Henriksen greets when he stops short of Castiel's personal space. The man doesn't wait for Castiel to respond. “I am helping the FBI with your case Mr. Novak. Yesterday we received a tip off, which I wonder if you could shed some light on?” He flourishes a grainy photograph in Castiel's face. “Have you ever heard of a Lisa Braedon?”

Castiel's eyes widen in surprise as he spots the familiar face in the picture. “You had better come to my office Mr. Henricksen.” He supplies before turning on his heel and leading the way.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a teeny tiny short chapter before the- what has turned in to- rather epic final leg of this story!

>> 16:34  
It's wrong to drink and drive right?

<< 16:36  
Yes Cassie. Yes it is.

>> 16:37  
So, I have to talk to Dean sober or get the bus drunk?

<< 16:40  
I would ask what this is about but I get the impression u wont tell me. Much as it goes against my nature, im gonna suggest sobriety for this one lil brother.

>> 16:44  
I hate you.

<< 16:45  
As is only right and proper.


	45. Chapter 45

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you mangy, lying, life ruining, skanky, dishonest whore! Why would you even do that? Why- I don't get it. You- Shit, Lisa, you've managed to break my heart in just about every way it is possible to do so. I- Fuck. I- Just.” Castiel watches Dean drop the land line phone down on to it's cradle with a blank look to his face, one tear streaking down his oil and dust covered jaw.

He turns around slowly to face the apparition in the doorway of his garage. He doesn't even seem surprised to see Castiel standing there. 

“She lied to me about the baby Cas. It's not mine.” He looks shell shocked, heartbreak evident in his voice.

“I know Dean.” He tells him, biting his lip. Deans eyes suddenly come in to fierce focus, boring in to Castiel's skull. Fear, anger, confusion and betrayal all flit quickly across The Beautiful Man's features. 

“We, er. We need to talk Dean. I have a lot I need to tell you. I owe you that much.”

Dean remains silent but, frowning, jerks his head behind him, indicating a couple of chairs surrounding a desk and an ancient oil stained desk top computer.

Castiel sinks in to the chair, a stray thought hoping that he doesn't get oil on his jeans darts through his mind before he takes a deep breath, trying to decide how to start. Dean is silent, watchful, his eyes blank and emotionless. Castiel thinks it's a front to the turmoil going on underneath the man's calm exterior.

“A few years ago I was befriended by a woman called Meg Masters. We met in a bar and hit it off. We met a handful of times. We talked about all things, but, in retrospect, we talked an awful lot about my career. I still don't know if our meeting was intentional on her side or happenstance. We arranged to meet for a date one evening and we ended up drinking a lot. I have a fairly high tolerance for alcohol, so I didn't really notice that I was drinking far more than her. We went back to my place, we had never spent the night together up until that point. We had one last round of drinks, whiskey, before we, uh, went to bed together. I don't really remember anything after downing the drink though.”

“In the morning I woke up naked, in my bed, with a horrific headache and no memory of the evening at all. Those memories came back over the next few days. I found Meg in the kitchen making coffee, I assumed at that point that she had been there all evening. It was then that a fairly large group of police forced their way in to my home and arrested both of us.”

“In the station we were split up and I told them that I had woken up that morning with Meg in the house after meeting the previous evening. They were concerned about my lack of memories and they asked if they could do a blood test. I was taken to hospital where they put me under observation. The results came back that I had a huge dose of Rhopynol in my system. They were surprised that I woke up at all.”

“I found out shortly afterwards that a man had been brutally murdered using a weapon registered to me, that's how they found me so quickly, the Sheriff has my details as a registered collector. Erm. So, anyway. They were suspicious of Meg, they believed that she may have committed the murder, they thought she was linked somehow to this person called Azazel. He's a drug lord or something equally stupidly titled. The guy who was murdered owed Azazel a lot of money, and he was known for throwing his cash about and buying a lot of drugs. They found that he man was in debt, most of it owed to a company that they believed was linked to Azazel. They thought that Meg was basically one of this man's hitmen- or hitwomen. Whatever.”

“So. They found a load of evidence against her, and uncovered a lot of the details of the companies and things, but they couldn't place her a the scene of the crime. Only a weapon that I owned. And, because I had been drugged, which they also couldn't trace to her, I had to testify that I had no knowledge of her whereabouts that evening.” 

“They couldn't place her there, so the entire case fell apart. I've been terrified ever since that they would come to me and try to pin the whole thing on me next.”

“Well. That evening when you and I met in the bar? And, you scared off that woman who you thought was trying to get me to ask her out? Well, that was Meg. I should have gone to the police immediately, but I was scared. She had already been in touch by that point too, left me a note at the museum. It was her who set the men on me outside of Edlund & Adler, and it was her and her men who attacked me the night you stood- um, the night Lisa told you she was pregnant.” At this Dean's jaw clenches even harder, but he seems to be just waiting for Castiel to get to the point.

“So, after I was released from hospital, Gabe took me home. We found my place wrecked, and it was clear that they were looking for something. When Meg's goons were beating me she kept asking me for the key and the combination for the lock to my weapons room. The first time, she had stolen the key which was just kept on my keyring, the security wasn't as good back then. They ransacked the apartment looking for the key when they hadn't got it from me either time she set her brutes on me. When they didn't find it they ripped the electronic lock from the room, tried to jimmie the frame apart, and bashed through the plaster to get in through the wall. I had learnt from the last time though, and the room is almost more protected than most bank vaults.”

“I was still pretty out of it with the concussion when we got in to the apartment, but Gabe saw all of this and called the police. He knew they'd see it for what it was. Not me trying to kill someone else, but Meg trying to frame me - badly.”

“Now, I'm going on supposition here, mine and Henriksen's. We think that Meg may have been watching me for a while, trying to plan something. They're looking in to who she may have been ordered to kill already. I guess she thought it would be easier to try and make the murders look the same, ancient weaponry used each time. I don't know. Anyway. So, Meg has probably been watching me a while. Since before we- er, before you and I even spoke. I think her initial plan was to seduce me and worm her way in to my life in order to commit the murder and set me up. When I wasn't interested and you turned up on the scene, Henriksen and I think that she may have tried to turn you against me in order to gain my attention more fully.”

“We think she did her homework and found out about Lisa. We reckon she approached Lisa and- I'm sorry Dean. I think she found out that Lisa wasn't faithful to you, and had fallen pregnant. Lisa was bribed to tell you that the baby was yours. There is apparently evidence that she received a large sum of money the day we were- the day she told you.”

“This is where it makes a little less sense. Meg didn't wait for her plan to work. Although you stood me up- Well, you know, didn't show that night, Meg didn't really try to seduce me again, and she showed up with backup, and then threw all caution to the wind. It is as if her entire plan went to shit that night and she gave up any pretence at stealth. She threatened me and then tried to beat the information out of me, and they destroyed my apartment, with huge neon signs pointing to their attempt to get in to the weapons room. Oh and they left the evidence of their presence in the alley with me, in the form of the mud they had walked all over my beautiful home.”

“I came here to tell you about Lisa. I didn't think it was fair for you to go on believing her. But I felt you should know the truth. About me too. It wouldn't have made much sense otherwise I guess. I also get the feeling that that phone call I walked in on may have been her telling you her self?”

Dean just stared at him blankly, his face white, eyes glazed over, before he took a huge breath and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as if asking for divine help.


	46. Chapter 46

Dean lets the breath out, his hands clenching on his knees. Throughout Castiel's speech he had been silent, watchful. His features had gone through almost every emotion in the book, but now he just looks blank. Stunned.

“Do you know what? As insane as the tale is you've just told me, I feel totally relieved!” Dean got up and strode back and forward, running his hand against his jaw, through his hair. He didn't look pleased, nor sad.

“I mean, I am actually fucking destroyed about the baby. I didn't want it with her, you know. But maybe- One day. Erm. But everything else?” Dean laughs a little hysterically. “You're this fucking perfect, insanely intelligent, bad ass, hot, sword fighting fuckin- fucking dude! And you have this ridiculous past?” Castiel watches Dean throw his arms up in the air, his golden-green eyes a little wild. Did Dean call him hot?

“Who even are you?! You sit silently behind a desk for most of a year, making me day dream about you each fucking week, with your massive blue eyes and perpetually wrecked hair! Then you morph in to this snarky bastard mixed with eternal shyness. God! I don't even know!”

Castiel just sits and watches him, eyes wide. He's never seen Dean so garrulous, and so lost for words at one and the same time. The normally smooth talker looked lost. 

Castiel wasn't sure if Dean was happy, confused, upset, disbelieving or angry. “I am sorry Dean. About- Well, everything. I did not wish for you to become mixed up in this. And, I am sorry about the baby too.”

“Yeah, man, me too. But, it does mean that I don't have any obligation to spend any more time with Lisa. Jeez. She was seven kinds of crazy. I really hope becoming a mom calms her down a little, ya know? She did actually sound pretty broken up on the phone in fairness to her. I guess the offer of money was too good to pass up though. I can't blame her for that. We can't all be world renowned authors with ancient weapon collections in our apartments.” He finally, finally, flashed a tiny grin Castiel's way. Cas felt himself melt with relief. Maybe Dean wasn't furious with his contradictory ways and weird past after all.


	47. Chapter 47

Castiel huffed a tiny laugh at Dean's comment. “So, er, yeah. I just thought I'd let you know. I know you'll probably want to, um, work through things? And I, um, I need to er, go. And. um.” Cas was hedging, he wanted to go to Dean to ask him if he still wanted to see him, to try something, anything, with the man. He wanted to run his fingers down the man's jaw line, and look in to his eyes to see how he was feeling, but he had pushed Dean away, with good reason, he still felt, and Dean had let him self be pushed. There had been no argument on either side. They had both been willing to let Lisa and her and Dean's supposed baby end any potential for a relationship between them, and Cas was still unsure if Dean had ever wanted that with him anyway. 

After so many revelations about not only Lisa, the baby, but of Castiel too, Dean's mind must have been a mess. 

Cas looked to the dusty, oil stained concrete floor. “Um, I'll see you around Dean.” He hitched a half smile on his face, not daring to look up at the mechanic. He wasn't saying goodbye. He wasn't. He hoped so much that Dean would perhaps not come to hate him once he had had a chance to think things through. He wanted so badly for the prospect of a murderer on his tail to not put the man off, but he could hardly expect so much. So, he would leave, and it could be Dean's choice.

He turned, facing his car parked out in the early evening sun, wishing desperately for the drink he had wanted before even starting this conversation with Dean, before even leaving work that afternoon.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Castiel stopped up short. What?

“You tell me all that shit and then, what, just go?” Dean's voice wasn't angry exactly, Castiel thought. He was still facing the entrance to the garage, Dean behind him in the shadows. The man sounded, almost, amused…

He turned on his heels, silently, eyes glassy, not knowing what to expect. Maybe he had read the man's voice wrong. 

That thought died in his head when he found himself a grand total of about twelve inches away from The Beautiful Man.

“You're a crazy son of a bitch Cas.” Dean said, shaking his head, a tiny smile lighting his face in the sinking rays of the sun. He raised a hand to Castiel's frozen face, his roughened palm gliding ever so gently down Cas' bruised and stubbly cheek.

Cas gasped almost silently, eyes wide and open as Dean leaned in. He felt nothing, and everything, as all thought flew from his mind and Dean pressed his warm damp lips to Cas' cracked and dry ones.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you're all gonna hate me...

Cas heard the quietest moan rise up the back of his throat as Dean's arms encircled him, pulling his unyielding body close. He was too shocked to move, to in awe of the warm body pressing against his to react. Dean broke away, just slightly, huffing a laugh directly against Cas' still closed lips. He pressed one more quick, close lipped kiss to Cas' mouth then, cupping his cheek in one hand, he started pressing kisses to Cas' bruised jaw, his neck, his throat, nipping at his ear lobe, running his hand up and through his hair. After maybe five seconds of this, maybe five minutes, Cas let loose another quiet groan and he suddenly came back to himself.

He gripped Dean's upper arms tightly and held him forcefully close as his lips sought the other man's. Dean's hands stopped their searching and cupped the back of Cas' head as he worked his tongue into Cas' mouth, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Cas relaxed his hands, wrapping them tight around Dean's waist, holding the man against him, lips to lips, chest to chest, belly to belly, groin to groin. 

He wondered if this was how true ecstasy felt.

He snaked his hand down, unable to stop himself, and smoothed his palm against Dean's ass. He felt one of Dean's arms drag him even closer, wrapped about his back, the other now fisting in his hair.

His tongue twined with His Beautiful Man's, exulting in the longed for feeling of the wet and hot battle for dominance between their lips.

Just as he felt that familiar twitch in his groin, the beginnings of sublime heat down there, the horrific, soul destroying, despised tinkle of his God forsaken, fucking mobile phone sounded in to the previously exquisite stillness of the garage.

They broke apart breath heaving, twin looks of lust and disbelief marring their faces.

Cas fished his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen. “It's Gabe, I'll just-” He had intended to say he would reject the call, but a tinny guitar chord filled the air as Dean's phone rang adding to the cacophony. 

They looked at each other in the eye, both sets of pupils blown wide, both kiss-swollen mouths pulled in to equal grimaces of annoyance. “It's Sammy.”

After a beat they both simultaneously break in to laughter, shaking their heads at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Hey Sammy.”

“Hello Gabriel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and also tense. Why is tense so difficult? Maybe one day I'll go through the lot and correct it all. But for now you will have to deal. Sorry!


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I suddenly got inspiration a few days ago to change the ending of this fic a little. I managed to smash out an extra chapter (next weeks,) just now, and had to edit this weeks a little to fit. But, today has been reasonably terrible so far and I'm somewhere quite far past tired, as such my tense over the next few chapters is yet again screwed to hell. See [This Post](http://anonymousantonym.tumblr.com/post/145606631916/tense-is-rubbish) as to how the argument has been going. I will present-ify everything...one day. 
> 
> Anyway. Hope you're all enjoying this! It's kind of got away from me and I have no idea what's going on to be honest!

“Hello Gabriel.”

 

“Yo.”

 

“Wait, what's wrong?” Castiel frowned. Gabe was never one for brevity unless there was bad news.

 

“I take it you're no where near a television?”

 

“What? No. I'm still, um, talking with Dean.”

 

“Talking huh?”

 

“Shut up. Why do I need a TV?”

 

“The news is a little interesting. They've got a warrant to arrest Meg. They've got a huge man hunt on the go!”

 

“What? I- Wait. WHAT?!”

 

“Yeup!”

 

Cas was pacing now, unable to believe Gabe's words. A bleeping noise sounded through the phone and through his shock.

 

“I have another call Gabe. I'll call you back.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Take care bro.”

 

Cas stared at the screen showing an unknown number.

 

“H-Hello?”

 

“Mr. Novak?”

 

“Y-Yes?”

 

“It's Detective Henriksen. I need to inform you that we have enough evidence and issued a warrant of arrest for Miss Masters. Miss Breadon is willing to make a testimony, so we have her to thank in part. I would advise you to make a milk run though, call in to work and bunker down. One of my estimable colleagues leaked this to the press. I expect you to have a circus surrounding your home with in the next hour or so. We don't think Miss masters will come after you, but we're sending a police detail to your house now anyway.”

 

“Oh. Um. Thank you Detective. But, um-” He looked over to Dean to who looked just as agitated as he felt. “I'm-”

 

Henriksen interrupted before Castiel had a chance to tell him he wasn't at his home. “Well, okay then. We'll be in touch Mr. Novak.”

 

_*Simultaneously*_

 

“Hey Sammy.”

 

“Hey Dean. Er-”

 

“Sam, kinda not a good time here, so what ever it is spit it out.” He looks through the shadowed opening to watch Cas leaning against his car out in the remains of the day's sunshine.

 

“No, um. It's a bit weird really. I er, heard some office gossip just about ten minutes ago.” Dean sighs. He isn't interested right now.

 

“They mentioned Cas' name, Dean.”

 

“I- What?”

 

“This guy, down a couple of floors from me, was saying that he's been asked to be the prosecution against a woman called Miss Masters. He didn't sound very impressed, reckons she is wanted for murder and for ABH against one Castiel Novak, amongst others, and other charges too apparently. Dean, what the hell is going on?”

 

“I'm really not all that sure myself Sammy. Cas just came over and told me this insane story. I think Miss Masters is his ex- Y'know, the one who drugged him and tried to frame him for murder!” He laughed a little hysterically.

 

“Shit, what the fuck? Wait, are you okay Dean?”

 

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine.”

 

“Where's Cas? If this gets leaked…. Is this Masters still on the loose?”

 

“Shit, yeah, and I dunno. Cas is here man.” Once again he looked over to Cas, he looked white faced and wild eyed. “He er, is on the phone to his brother I think. It doesn't look like it was good news.”

 

“Well, you better keep an eye on him for now. I'll try and find out what's going on. If they've appointed the prosecution all ready then they must be anticipating her arrest any minuet, if she isn't all ready in custody. If she's loose she might be desperate.”

 

“Um, yeah I guess… Shit. Thanks Sammy. Im gonna-”

 

“Yeah. No problem, catch you later Dean.”

 

-

 

Castiel and Dean hang up simultaneously, and turn to look at each other, the barrier of the garage door way, of sunset and shadow between them.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few chapters to go now!

Castiel looks to Dean through the gaping door way in to the man's work place. He can't think. His head is swimming with too much information to move. 

“Um. They're looking to arrest Meg. It's all over the news.”

“Shit. Fucking reporters.” Dean hisses, almost too quietly to catch across the wide space of the forecourt between them. “They've all ready appointed a prosecution. That was Sammy on the phone” he answers more loudly.

“I-” His head rolls back on his neck so that he can look at the clear sky. It feels like he has had something constricting his chest for years. Years. And, suddenly, as he looks up at the wide vista above him, something breaks, not wholly, but he can breathe again. “If the media's got it, then you can't go home. And, if Meg isn't caught yet, maybe she'll go lookin' for you?” Dean half-whispers, a frown cutting his forehead.

Cas drops his head back down to look at Dean properly. He had somehow slunk closer, a mere two feet from where Cas stands in the quickly growing shadows of the car filled yard. The breath catches in Cas' throat. 

“She might do. But, I didn't really want to go home...”

Dean smirks a little, raising an eyebrow.

Before Cas can react Dean was there, pressing his lips, once again, gently against his own. He is still worried, he won't feel truly calm until Meg is behind bars, but with Dean's soft, warm mouth pressing against his, things were starting to feel damn near perfect. 

“Ahem.” A sharp, acidic voice interrupts, the a faux cough ripping through the heated atmosphere.

Castiel and Dean spring apart, Cas spinning to face the apparition behind him, keeping Dean pressed against his back.

He didn't have it in him any longer to even be surprised. “For fuck's sake Meg. Will you just fuck off and get arrested already?” He spits out. 

She laughs. “No, gorgeous. You see. You're the one who fucked me over. And now all the fun is finished. I think you owe me.” She stops and slinks forward. “In blood.” She smiles, nodding, taking the cliché out of her words with the simple bored honesty in her voice.

Cas rolls his eyes and almost imperceptibly tilts his frame forward, taking his weight on to his toes. He can sense Dean still behind him, feel the fury radiating off him. He prays that Dean would leave this to him. 

“So, I think I'll kill your handsome beau first, and let you watch him bleed out. A little torture before I shoot you in your pretty face.”

As she spoke she had walked slowly forward, a gun held low, glinting in the artificial lights of the garage. 

“Jesus.” Cas huffs out, almost a laugh, exasperation filling his voice. He feels Dean's presence stiffen further behind him, reacting to his amused choice of word. 

The next five seconds or so happen in slow motion for Castiel. 

He lunged to his right, leaving Dean unprotected for a moment, trusting that his movement would surprise Meg in to stalling. With one quick motion he grabbed a tyre iron that was lying on the ground less than two feet away, and span, swinging the heavy metal in an arc straight in to Meg's forearm. It was a crude move, and the weapon was unbalanced, he would be ashamed of himself in any other circumstance. Yet, he heard the satisfying crack of Meg's arm breaking and the clatter as the gun landed on the floor. 

With another well aimed swing he took out her legs and almost before she hit the floor he had her rolled on her belly, her broken arm pulled, non too gently, up behind her back, straddling her hips, his knee pressing her uninjured arm in to the concrete floor. She was completely incapacitated apart from her kicking feet and foul mouth.

“Dean?” He asks quietly over Meg's screeching. He looks over, Dean is still standing exactly where he had left him, looking shocked. “Woah- Uh. Remind me not to piss you off. You're fast, dude. And vicious.”

Cas snickers. “Yeah. I am. Wanna call the Police?”


	51. Chapter 51

It took over an hour to get the Police in, statements taken and for them to leave again, injured criminal in tow. Castiel had been thrumming with energy the whole time. He wants whiskey, and a burger and to sing and scream with joy. 

What he gets, as the last blue flashing light rounds the corner, leaving them in the gloom and silence once more, are Dean's lips suddenly smashing in to his. Cas feels his heart jumping up in to his throat. 

He doesn't know if Dean or himself moved first, but he knows that he is the one pushing Dean back, back in to the shadows of the garage. He finds himself pushing Dean up against a large black shiny car with silver trim. He thrusts his knee unthinkingly between Dean's, holding the man's upper arms flush against the car door, the man's neck straining forward in order to reach Cas' lips with his own.

Cas holds his mouth out of reach, ghosting his lips instead over Dean's jaw line, down his neck, sucking a dark mark on to Dean's collar bone, which elicits a whimper from deep within his chest. Dean's whimper turns in to a groan, rumbling up through the man's torso, reverberating straight against Cas' heart. The depth of feeling Dean's moan pulls from him distracts him sufficiently to be surprised by Dean's tongue slipping deeply in to his mouth. It was Cas' turn to moan deeply, a swooping sensation running through his belly. The thrumming in his body only increasing with each passing moment.

“You-.” Cas hisses out when he breaks his mouth free of Dean's. “Are-.” He groans, rolling his hips as he re-grips Dean's arms. “Fucking-.” He whispers, licking a wide stripe up Dean's throat. “Beautiful.” His voice cracks with emotion as he drops to his knees before the man he loves.

Dean seems frozen as he watches Cas bite kisses in to the curve of his slightly soft belly. Cas' hands work furiously to unbutton and zip the man's oil stained jeans. He only looks up, his eyes glazed with awe that he could do this with and for Dean, when he hears the man's loud gasp as he frees his erection so that it only strains against his underwear just in front of Cas' mouth. As if in a dream he feels himself lean forward and mouth around the tip of Dean's cock, the delicious moan that Dean lets loose makes his own dick twitch in his pants.

“Come 'ere, come 'ere, come 'ere.” Dean pants out, and he pulls Cas up by his arms, wrapping him up to press his lips against Castiel's once again. Cas melts in to the touch, the feeling of being encapsulated by Dean's embrace, the assurance that Dean wants him and wants to hold him. He almost feels delirious with it.

Dean latches his mouth on to Cas' neck, the soft skin just behind his ear, while he scrabbles to undo Cas' trousers. He, in turn, pulls at Dean's filthy t-shirt, revealing the muscled arms and defined chest that he has refused to let himself try to picture. He whimpers at both the view before him and the feeling of his own engorged manhood being released from it's confines in his trousers.

Suddenly he realises that he doesn't have it in him to wait, to drag this out. He needs Dean, and he needs him now. He caresses his hands down Dean's sweat sheened torso, to his hips, pushing the man's underwear down, along with his jeans to his thighs. He can not restrain the gasp he lets loose at the sight of Dean's taught, tanned skin and rippling muscles.

With Cas watching the breathtaking vista before him, Dean manages to get the car door behind him open and, with a quirked eyebrow and a cocky grin, he shuffles back a little before falling backwards through the car door, prostrating himself along the long leather seat, kicking off his boots and jeans in the process.

Fully naked, hard and quivvering, Dean was spectacular and Cas can't help but whine a little in the back of his throat before crawling in to the car over the top of The Beautiful Man. He was still fully dressed, and rock hard himself, his trousers gaping open, his erection pressing through the zipper, still trapped in his boxer shorts.

Dean's mouth was open, hot and red, but it twists in to a brief look of disgust before Cas finds the man's hands at his hips, roughly pushing down his clothes. He knows the groan of pleasure he makes when Dean's hand wraps about him is nothing short of filthy. He can't help but jerk his hips forward at the soft touch, causing their cocks to collide, hip bone to hip bone. 

Cas' arm buckles under him and he lands against Dean's solid body, his back pressing in to the leather backrest, his face ever so close to Dean's green eyed stare. They would have both huffed a laugh if it weren't for the lightening sensations running through their groins, up their spines. Cas undulates his hips, purposefully, then bats Dean's hand away and takes them both in his fist, pumping them together slowly and surely. 

Dean arches up in to the touch, lifting Cas along with him, a perfect moan falling from his lips. Castiel needs to kiss the noise from him, make it his own.

“I wa-” Dean begins on an exhale, short panting breath and a pleasured frown. “I want you, inside-” All Cas can do was moan in agreement, until suddenly a thought arrests his movement. “I dont- I wasn't exactly planning this Dean, I don't have any-” Dean groans loudly in frustration. “Shit. Condoms. The-” He brakes off to wrap his own hand around Cas' and starts them moving together again. “-Garage isn't the place I generally look to hook up.” Then Dean's eyes widen beneath Cas' gaze and his hand slows. “Stop. Stop, stop, stop.” Dean breathes. “My wallet. It's in the glove box. I have-” Cas doesn't even give him time to finish his sentence before he slides over the bench seat and fumbles open the compartment, grabbing the black, leather wallet from with in. He flails a little, trying to get back on the back seat, over Dean, without kneeing him in the crotch or anything else equally mortifying. He manages it, and drops the wallet on Dean's naked belly. 

Dean grins up at him, a glint in his eye telling Castiel that he was one step away from openly laughing at him. The man, none the less, opens his wallet and throws the single pack of lube at Cas, grips the condom in his hand and spreads his legs as far as he could, a salacious grin spreading across his face.

Castiel rips open the packet of lube and dribbles some on his fingers, laying the rest on the seat. He looks up, finally taking a moment to take in the breath taking sight before him. Dean was spread out, squeezed along the leather bench seat of the car, legs wide, chest tinged pink, and panting. Cas fervently hoped it was Dean's car they were in. The man's checks were flushed with want, his eyes wide and dark, his lips swollen and red. He was damp with sweat. His skin was beautiful and freckled. His dick was long and hard and straining. Cas' has to swallow hard, his mouth watering with need. 

He leans in back over Dean to kiss every inch of the man below him while his free hand gently dips down behind his balls and starts circling his fluttering hole. Dean gasps and arches his back again at the sensation, his hands scrabbling low on Cas' spine. Cas' belly swoops at how beautiful Dean looks, mouth wide and eyes clenched shut. Before Dean can recover from just Cas' fingers softly swirling against his entrance, he pushes his middle finger in, up to the first knuckle, the second, all the way, in one fluid movement. Dean's eyes fly wide open, a grunt forces it's self from him and Cas feels his own cock pulse with want. 

He starts working Dean open in earnest, quickly and sloppily, but still ensuring that he wouldn't hurt him. He pumps his finger in and out a few times before dipping a second finger in, and starting to scissor them open. Dean was hot inside and Cas knew he would feel sublime when he finally entered him. 

He pushes forward to kiss Dean fully on the mouth as he slides a third finger in, ripping a honeyed moan from Dean. With one last push in Cas withdraws his fingers and kneels back on his haunches, still for just a moment. He watches as Dean takes a moment to realise what is happening, why Cas was no longer pressing against him, but then, all cockiness goes, and no grin graces his face, he rips open the condom packet and, without giving Cas a second to collect himself, rolls it over Cas' dripping erection.

He can't help the whimper the sensation causes him and he bites his lip, feeling the heat pool in his belly. 

He takes a deep breath and let his words out as a breathy whisper. “Look at me Dean.” 

Dean's eyes flick up from where they had been focused on his cock and a nervous expression flits across his face. “I've got you.” Cas whispers again as he leans back over Dean, pressing their lips together. As he licks his way in to Dean's mouth, slowly intertwining their tongues, he nudges the blunt head of his cock down over Dean's balls, in to the space behind, then gently against his twitching hole.

With a groan from both of them he finally, finally, pushes in to the exquisite heat that is Dean.

He arches his back as he sinks in to the man beneath him, taking his time to fully enjoy the slow slide of himself filling Dean up. The man in question has his head flung back, panting short sharp breaths, a loose smile curving his open lips. Cas can't find words within himself to explain how erotically perfect Dean is in that moment. 

Then; he starts to move. 

He withdraws until only the head of his cock remains within Dean. He cries aloud with the burst of pleasure running up his spine. And then he lets go, pounding in to Dean in shallow, quick, sharp thrusts.

Cas leans in to kiss at Dean's neck, and in between kisses and licks, grunts and panting, he mumbles, all but inaudible; “I hope this is more than just a hook up Dean.” Dean's fists tighten where they're clinging on to Cas' hips, leaving tiny grey bruises. “You don't even know how much I want that.” He replies, although Cas can't tell if Dean truly said that aloud, or if he just wants it so badly that he imagines it.

Nonetheless, he can't hold back a gasp. He still wasn't certain, but up until that moment he had not truly believed that Dean had ever really even liked him. Was humouring him maybe, or enjoyed his company like a friend. He had convinced himself that his fixation upon Dean was mostly one sided. But, if he hadn't made it up, Dean had said he wanted him for more than this, more than a quick fumble in the back of a car in his garage as the sun set.

With that thought he feels him self tumble over the edge, his muscles tensing up and white hot fire lancing through his veins as he chokes out a deep moan and pumps Dean full. Seconds later he feels and hears the strained groan of Dean as he follows Cas through his orgasm, hot puffs of breath tickling his face as he gasps for air while he clenches down on Cas' sensitised cock making him whimper and buck in to his Beautiful Man again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm so happy this chapter is done and out there and published and I don't have to read it again! I'm terrified it's awful. So apologies if that is indeed the case. (I'm not looking for compliments or what ever here, just, ugh! This was such a nightmare to write!!)
> 
> But on a different note; THEY FINALLY DID IT!


	52. Chapter 52

“So, er. As nice as this was Cas-”

Castiel's heart plummets, right down, through his stomach and all the way out, through his still shod toes. Dean doesn't want more after all? He was lying on Dean's sweaty and come covered chest, their breath still heaving in, the glowing warmth in their belly's from the astounding orgasm, and he doesn't want more? He suddenly feels very sick.

“Cas?” Dean must have felt his body go ridged. He couldn't answer. It felt as if he had swallowed a bee hive. “Er, as nice as this was-” Dean continued hesitantly. “I'd kind of like to take you on a real date. Y'know, dinner and a movie? No rage filled petite murderers? Less injury ideally. No surprise babies on the way. That kinda thing.” Dean looked down at Cas the best he could. “What do you think?” he whispered in to Cas' hair.

Cas had slowly melted back in to Dean, feeling like warm honey spread on toast, as Dean's words sank in. He did want him. After everything. After back-seat-of-a-car-sex in near public. He giggled quietly in to Dean's chest, then bit his lip to stifle the ridiculous sound. He levered himself up to look at Dean's beautiful face. “I would love that Dean.” He answered. He felt a smile break out across his face, first crinkling his eyes, then pulling his lips up, crinkling his nose and closing his eyes. 

Until suddenly;

“Shit.” It felt as if cold water had been poured down his spine as the memory flooded in to his head. “I can't.” His eyes widened and he couldn't help but stare at Dean as if he was the one preventing them being together yet a-fucking-gain. “I have a movie consultation I'm meant to be going to tomorrow morning. My flight's at 5am!”

Dean grumbled, no, growled deep in his chest. “Fuck that Cas. I'm taking you out tonight and then I'm fucking coming with you.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. There's an epilogue next week!


	53. Epilogue

“I'm coming, I'm fucking coming.” Dean mumbles under his breath at Castiel's demanding back as the man walks toward his bedroom. “I'm just getting my shoes off, don't need you shoutin' at me for that again.” 

“Dean. If you don't hurry up and get the fuck over here I am going to find the morning star I have hidden somewhere and chase you in to my bed with your shoes on or not.” 

“Jeez, okay, okay, how do you manage to make something so violent sound so hot? Seriously.” Dean straightened and stumbled after his boyfriend. 

They had a lot to squeeze in to the few hours before their flight in the morning.

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear lordy! It's over!
> 
> This was pretty much only the second thing I have/had ever written, so a massive thank you to everyone to left a comment or a kudos, to everyone who stuck through to the end, and everyone who liked it even a teeny bit!
> 
> I'm kinda a bit glad it's done to be honest! I've learnt a huge amount writing this, so please forgive me for all the errors etc, but now it's time to move on to new (and hopefully better) things!


End file.
